


Finding Home

by Snow_Owl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU from end of OOtP, Detention, Drinking Games, Dub-con elements, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Multi, Out of character Ginny, Potions Accident, Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 266,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Owl/pseuds/Snow_Owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So here’s what happened in 6th year: After the episode in the ministry in their 5th year, Lucius and the other death eaters present made their escape and were never imprisoned.<br/>Draco wasn’t up to something. But his father was. He was the one to break in to the school and the one who killed Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower. He did not bring any death eaters, and hence no students or professors were harmed.<br/>Seeing as the last Horcrux was destroyed by Dumbledore and Harry no Horcrux hunt during 7th year was necessary and all students attend school as planned.</p>
<p>Harry is dating Ginny but she is acting increasingly strange. At the same time Harry befriends Draco Malfoy, much to Ginny's annoyance and his own surprise.</p>
<p>Lots of drinking games and randy teenagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to School

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a working title and may change as I go along.
> 
> Quite a lot of it is actually Harry/Ginny with a slow build to Harry/Draco. I promise - it will get there so please don't be disappointed if the first few chapters don't involve Harry/Draco.
> 
> There will be a lot of interactions between the lot of them that might qualify for a relationship tag. They won't get one unless the 'relationship' effectively affects the story or has other significance. Seeing as a lot of it involves 17 yr. olds playing truth or dare, the taglist might be longer than the story.
> 
> I used Italic for whispering, emphasising words and sentences, hissing and loud talking, so quite a bit of different things - hopefully the context is clear enough that it will be understandable.
> 
> This is my very first fan fic ever written, so please; go easy on me. I welcome kudos and comments, though only concrit. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter related and make no Money off of this.

 

It was August 31st and the evening before getting on the Hogwarts Express and back to Hogwarts. Harry had stayed the whole summer at the Weasleys, as Dumbledore was no longer there to make him stay at the Dursleys.

Harry thought back on the night Dumbledore had died. Been murdered. It was the night that they had finally found and destroyed the last horcrux. Dumbledore had been weakened by the activities, and Harry hadn’t been paying attention to any possible dangers, partly because he was worried about Dumbledore’s fatigue and partly because of the high he felt at having destroyed the last horcrux. They had arrived on their brooms at the Astronomy tower, and Harry had been about to fetch Snape wearing his invisibility cloak because it was way past curfew, when Lucius Malfoy had suddenly stood there, his wand pointed at Dumbledore. And Dumbledore had cast a Petrificus Totalus on Harry, and even though it was done swiftly, Lucius Malfoy had been able to disarm Dumbledore, before he could react. And Lucius had cast the killing curse. And Harry saw Dumbledore die – the light in his eyes extinguishing. And Dumbledore had fallen from the tower. And Lucius had run. And escaped.

Harry was, of course, guilt ridden.

He had been stalking – no, wait, not stalking. Definitely not stalking. _Keeping under surveillance_. He had been keeping Malfoy under surveillance all year because he had thought he was up to something. It had turned out that he wasn’t. His father was, though. Harry still wasn’t sure how he got in to the castle, as no one from The Order or the professors had been willing to talk about it.

The Order had started having their meetings in the Burrow’s kitchen. For some reason they had not been able to use Grimmauld Place for the meetings and so had made temporary headquarters of the kitchen in the Burrow. Harry suspected that this was because the Fidelius Charm had died with Dumbledore, and Grimmauld Place was no longer safe as headquarters. He hadn’t bothered to ask, though, as he was pleased with the activity and the buzz of people going in and out of the Burrow at all times. It took the mind off things.

A couple of weeks into the holidays Kingsley had asked Harry to become the new secret keeper for Grimmauld Place as they had finally managed to replace the Fidelius Charm. Harry had, naturally, accepted and had spent an hour one afternoon writing several notes about the location to be given to various order members. Luckily the Order had continued meeting at the Burrow, despite the necessary security measures once again being in place at Grimmauld Place.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins had still not been allowed to join the Order, even though most of them were of age. This was mostly because of Mrs. Weasley, who could be frighteningly intimidating. They had resorted to using the Extendable Ears to listen in on the meetings.

At one of the meetings early into the holidays the topic of Malfoy had come up. Harry and the others had heard Mr. Weasley and Kingsley tell about Malfoy’s decision to leave the Manor and volunteer information and about the interrogation. They had heard Mrs. Weasley’s exclamations of “that poor boy” and “must be so scared” and “very brave of him” and the like several times during the meeting. Harry had been revolted at the notion that anybody could think of Malfoy as a ‘poor, scared, brave boy’.

Harry had read in the Prophet in the beginning of the holidays that Malfoy had renounced his father and his actions and was to live in a safe house due to the danger he would now be in with Voldemort and the other death eaters residing at Malfoy Manor. Harry had thought it was a load of bull. Malfoy was definitely up to something!

Harry still mourned Dumbledore but no longer felt the empty void his death had caused just a few months ago. He knew that this was largely because he had been surrounded by six Weasleys all summer and one Granger for the better part of it. Not to mention the wedding between Bill and Fleur in July, a week prior to Harry’s birthday. That had added several more Weasleys to the party for an entire week as Bill was staying at the Burrow a few days leading up to the wedding and Charlie was home from Romania for an entire week.

His relationship with Ginny had flourished during the holidays. As they had been living in the same house for two months, they had been able to be together in a way that had not been possible at Hogwarts due to Ginny’s OWLs looming over them. At the Burrow the only looming was that of Mrs. Weasley, which they escaped by going for walks together or lying in the tall grass at the bottom of the garden. This was especially nice in the evenings, when the air was still warm and the sky was clear and starlit.

At first, they would just sit together, holding hands, exchanging kisses and just _be_ , but gradually the character of the trysts changed: Their kisses became more passionate, deeper and longer lasting. Hands wandered further, first caressing hair, necks, backs and arms, then moving on to thighs and chests, then breasts, arses and finally crotches. Their groping sessions gradually became more intense.

On Harry’s birthday Ginny and he had wandered to the bottom of the garden after supper out of the view of the Burrow. They lay together on their backs under a large willow on the blanket they had brought, looking up at the sky between the branches which was still blue and bright as day. They lay there for hours holding hands, not talking, till the air started cooling, the sky slowly getting darker. They scooted closer together warming each other.

As if by silent agreement they both turned to their sides, facing each other. They were lying very close to each other, their noses almost touching, and Harry could feel Ginny’s breath on his face. It smelled like mint. Their lips touched and they kissed as they had done many times before that. It was slow and soft. Ginny entangled her hand in Harry’s soft hair and pulled slightly. Harry leaned toward Ginny, gently pushing her on her back, lying half on top of her. He was propped up on his elbow, caressing her with his other arm gently stroking up and down her side.

His hand slowly skidded under her short sleeved tee-shirt, and he slid his hand up her stomach, halting briefly before caressing her breast and kneading it gently.

Ginny opened her thighs slightly and Harry’s leg settled between them. He felt himself grow hard against Ginny’s hip.

He gently twisted her nipple only separated from his fingers by the thin fabric of her bra, and he felt her arch up into him. He began grinding against her hip, and he could feel her responding, grinding against his thigh.

He moved his hand from her breast and let it travel down the smooth skin of her stomach to the top of the elastic band of her skirt. His fingers halted there, fingertips resting under the base of the band, unsure of whether to continue downward. So far they had only ever touched each other on top of their clothes, and they had never discussed each other’s boundaries or limits. Harry felt Ginny grind harder and breathing slightly faster, eyes closed, and he took it as an invitation to continue moving further downwards.

Harry’s hand slid further down and underneath the elastic band of her pants. He felt the soft curls there, and he moved his middle finger further down between her labia.

He pulled back from their kiss, watching her expression intensely, wanting to see her when he hit the right spot. Ginny’s eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly and her breathing fast. She suddenly tensed almost unnoticeable and made a sharp intake of breath. Harry smiled to himself and knew that he had found it. He moved his finger across the same spot again and started gently massaging it. It was wet and slippery there and Harry moved his finger further downward and carefully slid it into Ginny. He moved his finger in and out of her, Ginny bucking her hips against it.

“More”, she whispered, eyes still closed, and Harry added another finger and began moving both fingers. “Harder. Faster”, Ginny whispered, and Harry sped up his movements.

His cock was rock hard and straining against his trousers. Ginny opened her eyes and gave him a glazed look. She pushed his hand away and made to sit up.

Harry sat back against the tree trunk of the willow, and Ginny straddled his thighs. She was grinding against the hard bulge in his trousers, clutching his shoulders and kissing him passionately. Harry groaned into her mouth.

Ginny moved to unbutton his short sleeved shirt and Harry helped her eagerly. She let her hands touch his chest softly, tracing the muscles on his chest and abdomen.

Harry moved his hands to her breasts, and he started kneading them. Ginny lifted her T-shirt over her head and threw it next to them on the blanket. She proceeded to undo her bra and discarded of it, yanking it off. Harry took in the sight of her breasts, perky and soft, and continued kneading and gently pinching her nipples. Ginny lifted herself slightly and arched her back, motioning her breasts towards Harry’s mouth. Harry’s cock twitched as he sucked one of her tits into his mouth. He sucked her nipple, twirling his tongue around it and massaged the other breast, pinching the nipple between the base of his index and middle finger. Ginny leaned her head backwards and moaned. Harry let go of the breast he was sucking and looked up at her. Her head was still thrown backwards, her neck and collarbone exposed. Her skin was bronzed from the sun. Harry leaned forward and licked at the base of her neck, which enticed her to grind quicker and harder.

“Ginny”, Harry panted. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes glazed with desire.

Still looking him in the eyes Ginny reached down between them and slowly unbuckled his belt. She moved to unbutton his trousers and Harry whimpered at the feeling of her hands in his crotch.

Ginny climbed down off his thighs, and began pulling off Harry’s trousers. Harry helped eagerly, kicking them off his calves. He made a sigh of relief when his cock was freed from the strain of the trousers. It was hard as rock and throbbing almost painfully. Ginny glanced at his cock and unconsciously licked her lips. She reached forwards and grabbed around the shaft, moving her hand up and down a couple of times. Harry’s eyes were half shut, and he looked at her through his long dark lashes. Ginny let go of his cock, stood up and reached below her skirt, discarding her knickers and throwing them on the ground.

She climbed on top of Harry again, his back still resting against the tree trunk. She grabbed hold of his cock and started descending on it. It felt tight around him, but it went in easily. Too easily, Harry thought briefly. He had heard that there was usually a certain amount of pain involved the first time, especially for the girl. However, Ginny looked perfectly at ease, the only thing showing on her face being pleasure and want. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be in pain - of course not. He just couldn’t help wondering, though, why she seemed so at ease. So confident. So… experienced. He decided not to dwell on it, not wanting to think about what might or might not have happened in her previous relationships with Michael Corner and Dean Thomas. So he threw aside this thought and enjoyed the sensations going through his body.

It felt soft and wet and wonderful. Harry moaned and closed his eyes as Ginny rode him. She thrust down on his cock, her head tilted back. Her neck and collarbone were once again exposed and Harry leaned in and licked her collarbone. Ginny tilted her head slightly to the side. Harry took this as an invitation to close his mouth around her collarbone and suck there lightly. Ginny whimpered and increased the pace she had set. She was panting harder, and it was the most sensual thing, Harry had ever heard. He, too, was panting and groaning. He thrust up into her, meeting her pace.

Harry could feel that he would not last long, so he grabbed Ginny around her waist and shifted their bodies, so she was lying on her back on the ground, Harry on top of her. She threw her legs around his waist and locked her ankles on his back. Harry began thrusting into her hard and fast, his elbows resting on either side of her head. He felt drops of sweat dripping into his eyes and his fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead.

Ginny was clinging to him. She was whimpering, almost chanting “yes, yes, yes”. Harry could hear her breathing becoming faster and in shallow gasps. She was writhing beneath him, her eyes shut tight. Suddenly, she froze and her entire body became rigid. Her eyes opened wide and her brown eyes focused on Harry’s green ones. The intense eye contact only lasted a moment – then her eyes shut tightly, she threw her head backwards and arched up into Harry as she cried out.

Harry could feel her contracting around his cock. He felt the familiar sensation of an orgasm approaching. It began in his belly, a tickling feeling and incredible warmth spreading in his abdomen and moving towards his groin. He was panting and groaning, moving at top speed. He thrust into her hard three more times before convulsing intensely and emptying himself inside her moaning a loud “Oh _fuck_ ” and sighing with relief.

Harry collapsed on top of her, his heart beating fast. He lay there a couple of minutes when he felt her move slightly underneath him and suddenly became aware that he was slumped limply on top of her. Not wanting to crush her, he slid down and lay next to her on the ground.

They lay bareback on the ground, as the blanket had been crumpled and apparently kicked to the side in the heat of things. Harry was almost surprised to find that nightfall had begun. Already a few stars were out and the moon was shining bright.

Harry turned his head to look at Ginny, who was lying next to him with her eyes closed. Her cheeks were flushed and a smile played on her lips. She turned her head to look at him, and Harry returned her smile with a sheepish grin.

“That was amazing,” he said.

“Yeah,” she responded. “Happy birthday, Harry.”

Harry looked at her and smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “Hey. I can do magic outside of school now”. He reached in his trouser pocket and grabbed his wand. He pointed it at his crotch. “Tergeo,” he said, and the come that was still left on his now limp cock disappeared. He pointed his wand at Ginny’s crotch and did the spell again.

“Thank you,” she said. “Tends to get a bit sticky after a while”. Harry chose not to dwell on that comment either.

Ginny sat up. “Better get back to your party. Wouldn’t want to miss the cake”, she said. She looked around and found her knickers crumpled up along with the blanket. She got to her feet and put them on.

“I don’t care about cake”, he answered dreamily. “I’d rather just fall asleep and lie here all night with you.”

“Me too,” she said smiling slightly at him while pulling her tee-shirt back on, “but mum will throw a fit, if I make you miss your cake”.

“Point”, Harry said and stood up. He stretched his body and made a humming satisfied sound.

“Are you going to put your pants and trousers back on, Harry?” Ginny asked with a grin and an amused tone in her voice.

Harry looked down his body and felt almost surprised to find himself naked from the waist down and his shirt unbuttoned. “Right,” he said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Good idea”.

Harry located his trousers and boxers and pulled them on. He then proceeded to button up his shirt.

When they were both dressed, Harry put his arms around Ginny’s neck, and she put hers around his waist. They kissed. A long and lingering kiss full of promises.

They walked slowly back to the Burrow. Harry had his arm around Ginny’s shoulder, and they were chatting idly.

When they got back to the front yard, they were greeted by Ron and Hermione who appeared to be standing quite close to each other but moved a bit further apart, when they noticed Harry and Ginny. Harry couldn’t help the goofy grin slowly widening on his face.

Ron and Hermione both looked at them. Hermione was smirking visibly, and Ron was narrowing his eyes, suspiciously.

“You might want to tidy yourselves up a bit before you join the others,” Hermione said. “Ginny, you have twigs in your hair and your shirt is inside out. And Harry, you missed a button, and your shirt looks like you’ve been rubbing it against a tree trunk,” she added.

Ron looked away, blushing, as Ginny took off her T-shirt and moved it the right side out.

Harry looked down himself and realized that he had indeed missed a button. He unbuttoned and re-buttoned it and tried his best to straighten the creases and brush his own back, as Hermione was helping Ginny remove the twigs from her hair.

Ron’s face was getting redder by the minute, his eyes were wide open, and he looked almost panicking. Harry couldn’t quite meet his eyes and was also blushing furiously.

Ginny looked at Ron, her eyebrows lifted. “What?” she said. Ron didn’t answer but looked accusingly at Harry, who was looking down, still unable to meet Ron’s eyes.

“Ron, seriously,” Ginny said. “Don’t get mad at Harry. I instigated it. Besides, it’s just sex; it’s no big deal.”

That last remark stung, as Harry actually thought it _was_ a big deal, but he chose to push the slight feeling of hurt aside.

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Ginny, his face still red. He then looked to Hermione, looking almost desperate as if wordlessly asking Hermione what to do. Hermione shrugged, and Ron finally resigned. He looked slightly ill, then groaned and turned around walking towards the house with his head down.

Harry looked up at Hermione who smirked at him. “Interesting,” she said holding his gaze.

Harry gave her a lopsided smile, and she, too, turned to walk towards the house.

He turned to look at Ginny, who grinned at him. She reached up and cupped his cheeks gently, then kissed him deeply.

Harry felt himself starting to grow hard again and broke the kiss. “Ah… This might not be a good idea right now,” he said.

Ginny looked at him and lifted an eyebrow. She then let her hand wander down his chest to his groin and squeeze gently.

Harry made a sharp intake of breath and bit his lower lip.

Ginny removed her hand, winked at him and, like Ron and Hermione, walked towards the house.

Harry stood still, looking after her as she walked away. How did he get so lucky?

He waited till he could feel his cock deflating and then went back to the Burrow to join his birthday party.

*

Draco’s summer so far had sucked to say the least. Immediately after the school learned about Dumbledore’s death, he had run to the new headmistress’ office, terrified of what had happened. He had been completely unprepared and completely unaware. And he felt _used_. He had offered to tell her everything he knew about his father, the other death eaters and the Dark Lord in return for being moved to a safe house during the summer holidays, so that he would be safe until school started again. He had been a mess. Panicking and sobbing. While McGonagall had contacted the Order of the Phoenix, he had caught a glimpse of his own reflexion in a mirror hanging on the wall. He had winced at his own appearance: He was trembling, his hair was a mess, he was even paler than normal, his eyes were red rimmed, there were visible traces of tears down his cheeks, and he had a haunted expression on his face. It was excruciatingly undignified. Not becoming of a Malfoy at all, but he had been unable to compose himself.

Some Order members had arrived by floo mere seconds after McGonagall had cast her Patronus, and the deal was in place and a safe house found in less than five minutes.

After the deal was in order, they had interrogated him thoroughly, and he had told them that the Dark Lord currently resided in Malfoy Manor. He had told them the names of the death eaters he knew of and a few that he had heard mentioned on occasion. He had, to the best of his knowledge, told them about the sort of magic each death eater favoured and the various dark spells he had come across. He had told them how his father had been assigned to killing Dumbledore and how his father had made a gold watch with the Malfoy crest into a portkey and given it to him on his 17th birthday as was wizarding tradition. Consequently, Draco had unknowingly been part in letting his father into the school. He had not known that the watch was a portkey until he had seen the glow and his father had stood directly in front of him in the middle of the dungeons.

The Order had questioned him quite aggressively on that part, as if they were not quite sure that he had not had any knowledge of the portkey. Draco had volunteered after that to do the whole interrogation over again on Veritaserum.

He had continued to tell them, how he was scared of his father’s plans, confused that he was actually disagreeing with and questioning the sensibility and necessity of it, frustrated and angry with both himself and his father as he found himself wondering if maybe the ideals he was brought up with were not entirely true, and lastly how fucking terrified he was because he was realizing that his father bowed to a madman, who would most definitely torture and kill both him and his parents, should his father fail to complete the task that was bestowed upon him. Who _had_ tortured and killed. He had made Draco’s father torture his mother when he had failed to retrieve the prophecy from the ministry. And he had made Draco watch. He told them how he had confided in Dumbledore, knowing that it might well mean his own death. Dumbledore, however, had made him promise not to interfere with his father’s plans and had sworn him to secrecy. As to why, Draco had no idea, other than the assumption that he was barking mad, which was, of course, what he had always suspected.

He had not been able to tell them anything concrete about the Dark Lord’s plans other than titbits he had heard in the halls and from death eaters talking when they didn’t realize that he was within hearing range. Only those who had already received the Mark had been let in on the plans.

Draco had made sure that the deal included his mother, and that she had the offer of moving with him to the safe house. He had summoned one of the Manor’s house elves as soon as the deal was made and made sure to tell the elf that no one but his mother must be informed of the plan and to make sure that no one overheard. The elf was to inform her that her answer was needed right away and that it would not be possible to say good bye or inform her husband. Because of the Fidelius charm the elf would not be able to inform her of the address until she was informed by the secret keeper, but was forbidden, even so, to give any unnecessary details about the plan, and was to apparate with her side-along to the house immediately after she agreed.

The elf was to then return to the Manor and pack his mother’s vital items and clothing and return with it. Draco already had all that he needed in his school trunk.

His mother had, luckily, accepted the offer, and they were now currently living in a house in muggle London that functioned as both safe house and headquarters to the Order, although at the moment they seemed to be having their Order-meetings someplace else.

Apparently the house had belonged to his mother’s aunt Walburga, and she had visited there often when she was younger. How the house had come to belong to the Order, he had no idea, and he was not inclined to ask.

Draco had wondered several times, if he would be able to stay in the Slytherin dorms, or if he would be considered a traitor and a moving target. He hoped that the Slytherins’ understanding of self-preservation would be enough to offer him some leniency on his classmates’ part. However he could not deny that he was nervous.

It was therefore to his immense relief that the headmistress one day stepped out of the fireplace and informed him that the majority of the other Slytherins in his year had expressed that he would not be a target and that they would support him. Draco had very much doubted their sincerity at first, but McGonagall informed him that his classmates had all volunteered to take Veritaserum. Draco hadn’t realised before then that he had been mentally holding his breath. He felt himself relaxing considerably.

Once in a while a member of the Order would drop by to check on him and his mother and to check whether his father had tried to contact them. He had not, and Draco wasn’t expecting him to.

He found it surprisingly easy to live without his father. The reason for this was, perhaps, that his father had become increasingly unstable during the last year, when the Dark Lord had taken residence in the Manor. His father had done his bidding without question, acting as his right hand man and awarded punishments when someone or something had displeased the madman.

Draco shuddered when he thought of the things his father had done; he had, among other things, tortured Dolohov for hours when Dolohov had dared to ask a question about the Dark Lord’s plan. He had tortured a house elf for the Dark Lord’s amusement, and the poor thing hadn’t even done anything wrong, and he had killed Draco’s owl when it delivered news from Snape of the level of strength of the wards placed on Hogwarts. But the thoughts and images that kept him up at night and, when he finally did fall asleep, haunted his sleep with nightmares, were those of his father torturing his mother when Draco had failed to punish Rookwood to the Dark Lord’s satisfaction. His father hadn’t even questioned the order to torture his own wife or even hesitated. Draco himself had been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse more than a few times as well, also by the hand of his father, but never as long time in a row as his mother had had to endure.

What also kept Draco up at night were the thoughts of his aunt Bellatrix and the images she had planted in his head using Legilimency on him. Draco was skilled at both Legilimency and Occlumency but certainly no match to his aunt. She had planted images of his mother lying murdered and blood spattered on the floor, of Fenrir Greyback feasting in her flesh and of himself being the one who tortured and murdered her, the only person he loved with his entire being. He knew it wasn’t real and that they were just images, but they were terrifying nonetheless. Draco remembered being happy when she had first escaped from Azkaban during his 5th year at Hogwarts. He had soon, however, discovered that she was crazy and utterly insane; she would cast hexes and curses for fun at unsuspecting passers-by, laughing maniacally, and she had an unnaturally close relationship with Greyback, who also took residence in the Manor.

Yes, Draco was glad to be out.

He was looking forward to being back at Hogwarts, although he was concerned for his mother’s well-being, when she had to be all alone in the big house. She had tried to set his mind at ease, saying there would be Order members stopping by now and then, so she wouldn’t be completely alone, and that there were also two house elves to keep her company. As if that was any kind of consolation. One of the elves was Draco’s own elf and the one he had summoned to get his mother out of the Manor. Bilbo was his name. The other one was a strange old elf that had been with the Black Family for what must be centuries, judging by the appearance of him. Kreacher. That one was just plain weird. He kept on going on and on about the honour of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black finally being inhabited by magnificent honourable pure blood and about the joy of serving on “the worthy” and not serve on blood traitors and mudbloods. Draco had liked the elf’s doting at first, but when he began praising Draco’s “fair and beautiful complexion befitting a wizard of the purest blood – not like his master” and his “hair shining brighter than a thousand stars, as would the hair of a wizard of the purest blood – not like his master”, Draco had become creeped out and avoided asking the elf for anything. His mother had told him that the old Black Family elf was harmless and “really very sweet when you know how to handle him”. Draco just found him creepy.

The 1st of September found Draco at platform nine and three quarters, flanked by Order members as to ensure his safety until the train left, by when the professors would. He recognised one of them as Mad Eye Moody, who had been teaching at Hogwarts his 4th year. Well, at least a copy of him had been teaching there. A shiver went down his spine as he vividly recalled his brief state as a ferret. So humiliating! There was a woman with pink hair who looked vaguely familiar, and Weasley Senior was hovering nearby, keeping an eye on him as well as saying good bye to the Weasel and the Weaselette.

When he boarded the train Draco saw someone coming up to greet the Order members heartedly. He noticed the familiar mess of black hair and sneered inwardly. Of course Potter _would_ be friendly with the Order members. “Pretentious little shit,” Draco said to himself and went to find a compartment.

*

After having said his goodbyes to Tonks, Moody and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry boarded the train together with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. They found an empty compartment near the back of the train and went to sit there. They were joined not long after by Neville and Luna.

As the train started moving, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how it was going to be to go back to Hogwarts without Dumbledore sitting at the High Table in the Great Hall. He felt his throat tightening and decided to stop thinking about Dumbledore and enjoy the train ride. One of the last ones.

When the food trolley arrived, they stocked up on chocolate frogs, liquorish wands, Bertie Botts’ Multi Flavour Beans, pumpkin pasties and bottles of pumpkin juice. Harry again felt a lump in his throat when he discovered Dumbledore on one of his chocolate frog cards.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were exchanging holiday experiences, and Luna was reading the latest edition of The Quibbler. Harry was looking out the window, staring at nothing, when he got the distinct feeling of being watched. He turned around and saw Ginny watching him from the seat across from him with an almost hungry expression on her face, as if she was undressing him mentally. He looked back at her, imagining her naked and aroused and him doing all sorts of things to her, and he tried his hardest to convey his thoughts to her.

Ginny stood up and made to leave the compartment. She made a slight gesture towards the door with her head, and he stood up to follow her. As they opened the compartment door, Ron’s head flew up, his eyes alert and narrowed.

“Where are you going,” he asked quite loudly, and the others looked up as well, save Luna who was still immersed in her magazine.

Harry’s face felt very hot all of a sudden, and Ron’s eyes narrowed further. “Uhm… We were just… I…,” Harry stuttered, turning towards Ginny who just stood there with an amused look on her face. “I… We… Hey look, there’s Seamus,” Harry said and rushed past Ginny out of the compartment. She followed him, laughing, and Harry looked at her in disbelief. “That was _so_ not funny,” he said.

“It really was, though,” Ginny answered. “Did you see the look on Ron’s face?”

Harry recalled the appalled look on his best mate’s face and snickered. “Perhaps it was a little bit funny”.

Ginny gave him a peck on the mouth and grabbed his wrist. She almost dragged him through the train heading towards the bathrooms. Harry moved to stop when they reached them, but Ginny dragged him past them. When Harry looked at her quizzically, she said “There’s no way I’m going to have sex in a filthy bathroom on a train.”

“Okay, then where?” Harry asked, and she motioned her head toward the wagon attached at bottom of the train holding sanitary supplies, cleaning potions and the like.

They hurried in to the wagon, having quickly taken a look around to see if anyone was watching them enter.

When the door closed, they immediately met in a tight embrace kissing each other fiercely. Harry slammed Ginny up against the wall while kissing her, and he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while reaching under her skirt with the other. She had taken to wearing loose skirts a lot, as they had discovered the joy of quickies, be it in her room (those were _really_ quick) or against the wall in the tool shed. And so, Harry didn’t bother to remove her knickers but pulled them aside, slipped in two fingers and started finger-fucking her while sucking her collarbone. She was writhing and moaning, and he soon let her hands fall down from above her head, so he could undo his belt and trouser buttons and slide them down to his knees together with his boxers. He then lifted her up so she could lock her ankles behind his back, slid in his cock in one stroke and started fucking her against the wall. Ginny threw her arms tightly around Harry’s neck, tilting her head upwards, mouth open and eyes closed. Harry attacked her throat, licking and sucking. He lifted up her T-shirt with one hand while supporting her bum with the other and pulled down her bra cups exposing her breasts. He had one arm around her waist; a firm grab on her buttock for support and was leaning against her, pushing her up against the wall. His other hand was kneading her breast. They were panting and hissing, and Harry was slamming into Ginny. There were no windows in the compartment, it was getting extremely hot, and drops of sweat were dripping into Harry’s eyes, and tickling his thighs. He therefore welcomed the whiff of fresh air that suddenly brushed over him but didn’t think to stop and ask himself how a breeze had suddenly entered the wagon.

“Harder! Faster!” Ginny demanded with a breathy voice, and Harry obliged to the best of his ability. Almost immediately after, she started her whimpering chant of “Yes, yes, yes, yes” as the tell-tale sign of her orgasm approaching. Her gasps became quicker and shallower, until she took in a large breath of air, held her breath and arched into Harry with a loud moan. Harry felt her clench around his cock, and he came almost instantly, emptying himself inside her with a loud “ _ngh_ ”.

Ginny was still lodged around Harry’s waist, her back leaning against the wall and Harry leaning in, also resting against the wall. Harry looked up at Ginny who slowly opened her eyes. They looked each other in the eyes, grinning at each other.

Harry suddenly heard a small noise from behind him, and the light was turned on. Ginny’s eyes darted up and towards the wagon door. It had been semi dark in the wagon, and Ginny’s eyes needed some time to adjust to the light. He saw her expression change from surprise to shock to anger. “ _Fuck_ …,” she said, still looking in the direction of the door.

Harry turned his head to look over his shoulder and saw someone leaning against the door, arms crossed. It took him only a moment to register the familiar pointy face surrounded by platinum blond hair, an amused smirk firmly in place and one eyebrow raised.

*

Draco’s trip so far had been uneventful. He had found an empty compartment and was soon joined by Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle. He told them about his summer, and they told him about theirs. To Draco’s relief the topic of his father and Draco’s dissociation with him only came up once, and his friends apparently held no grudges.

It was a warm day and after a few hours Draco needed to cool down, so he excused himself and made his way to the bathrooms to splash some water in his face.

His plans, however, were interrupted by some noise coming from the supply wagon. He moved closer and caught the unmistakable sounds of someone having sex. He carefully opened the door to the wagon, as to not disturb the couple going at it. When he saw the mane of long flowing red hair which could only belong to the Weasley girl and the tall, slim body and black unruly hair that no doubt belonged to Harry fucking Potter, he just couldn’t get himself to leave. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Or ears. The Weaselette was moaning and panting, wrapped around Potter’s waist, and Potter’s trousers were lodged around his knees. Draco could see the muscles in his buttocks and thighs as he thrust hard into the Weasley girl, who was asking to get it harder and faster. Draco couldn’t see how that would be possible, as Potter’s thighs and arse already looked like he was doing the best he could. He did seem to manage to oblige her anyway, though. Just then Draco realised, repulsed, that he was watching Potter’s arse and analysing his fucking skills, and he tore his eyes away, making a mental note to scourgify his eyes. He then focussed on the Weaselette’s face, as she started chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’. He knew the sound of those words and what it meant. Not from the Weasley girl, obviously, but he had been on the receiving end of them with Pansy a good few times, and there was that one Ravenclaw girl he couldn’t remember the name of. He watched the Weaselette’s face scrunch up and was almost impressed with her loud moan as she orgasmed. Shortly thereafter he heard Potter stifle a moan and watched him convulse violently.

Draco shuffled to lean on the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest, making sure to make enough noise that he would be discovered. He made sure that his smirk was well in place and his eyebrow lifted as he waited for them to realize he was there. He then turned on the light.

The Weasley girl looked up. A variety of emotions showed on her face as she realized who he was: First there was confusion, then shock, definitely anger, but he also saw something else. Something similar to… Lust? Excitement? Well, well. Who knew the Weasley girl had a thing for exhibitionism.

Potter, realizing something was off, turned to look over his shoulder. Draco saw shock and a look of utter horror on Potter’s face. Startled, Potter turned around, apparently without thinking and still carrying the Weasley girl, who he then dropped on the floor with a loud thud. Her T-shirt was pulled up and her bra cups pulled down, her breasts fully exposed and in full view. They were a fine pair of breasts, Draco had to admit; a nice handful and firm and perky. He let his eyes linger there, still smirking, and she hurriedly moved to cover them up. He then looked at Potter who was standing frozen like a deer in the headlights. Without the she-Weasel wrapped around his body, Potter’s front was in full view. Draco’s eyes darted downwards per reflex, and Potter immediately moved his hands in front of his cock to cover up the view, the look of horror still planted on his face. “Ow, _fuck_ , Harry, that _hurt_ ” the younger Weasley said, still sitting on the floor and looking annoyed. Potter bent down to help her up, his trousers still down around his knees.

Draco couldn’t help the gleeful smile widening on his face, and he moved his hand up to cover his mouth. This was just too hilarious. He couldn’t help snickering.

“For fuck’s sake, Harry, I can do it myself. Just pull your trousers up, would you,” she said, and Potter pulled them up, buttoned them and buckled his belt. Potter’s face was puce. The Weasley girl got up from the floor, straightened her shirt and brushed off her skirt. She hadn’t moved to look for or pull on knickers, so Draco assumed she must either not be wearing any, or they had just been pushed aside. After straightening her clothes, she lifted her chin and strutted out of the wagon.

“Come on, Harry”, she demanded.

Potter hurried past Draco, shooting him a murderous glare and hissing “fucking perve”.

Draco went along directly after them, still snickering. He could see the back of Potter’s neck. It was blushing scarlet.

When the Weaselette and Potter opened the door to their compartment and went in, Draco couldn’t help himself: He pushed the compartment door wide open, before Potter had the chance to shut it properly and leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed. He sought out Weasley and looked him in the eyes. “Quite the kinky little sister you have there, Weasel,” he said, smirking. “Exhibitionism. Who would have thought?” He watched Weasley’s jaw drop, his face paling, then turned around and went towards his own compartment, smirk firmly planted on his lips.

*

Harry was mortified. He didn’t know where to look, so he just took the empty seat across from Ron, staring at his own hands which were in his lap and trying _very_ hard _not_ to look at Ron. His face was burning.

The compartment was dead silent for what seemed like a very long time. He then heard Ginny say: “Oh for fuck sake, Ron, close your mouth.” Ron did but kept on looking pale and horrified.

The silence continued. Harry heard Hermione cough and say, very loudly: “So, I wonder if Snape is still going to be Defence teacher.”

That broke the uncomfortable silence somewhat, and Harry could almost feel the tension in the air easing. He looked up and found Ron staring at him, looking slightly ill, a little accusing and _very_ uncomfortable. Harry hoped that the embarrassment he felt was also showing on his face to a degree that would make Ron feel sorry for him and not angry with him.

He looked around in the compartment. Luna was talking enthusiastically about a rumour she heard that a vampire had been hired to teach defence, and Ginny was listening politely, no sign of embarrassment showing on her face. Neville was blushing and kept glancing at Harry as if not quite sure what to do with himself, and Hermione was looking at him with an amused smile on her lips.

Harry sat the rest of the trip in silence.

As the train pulled in to the station and the students gathered in the hall way, Ginny gave Harry a peck on the cheek and went with Luna to join some other 6th year students. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville went to find an empty carriage. Although Harry had seen the Thestrals several times and knew they were clever and gentle animals, he still found them creepy and avoided looking at them.

Harry was still embarrassed and quite uncomfortable. He heard someone snickering close by and looked up. His mortification grew as he spotted Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Zabini watching him, smirking and snickering. He felt himself blush furiously and didn’t know in which direction to move or look. Hermione who was walking next to Harry looked towards the group of Slytherins, rolled her eyes and proceeded to drag Harry in the opposite direction.

Ron, who had been walking next to Hermione, loudly exclaimed “Sod off, Ferret,” and went to flank Harry’s other side. Harry felt grateful of his friends, though it was also quite awkward being backed by the brother of the girl he had just nailed (quite publicly) on the train, when said activity was also the reason of the smirks directed at him.

Malfoy and his cronies started laughing openly. As Harry looked around on the station it became clear that the group of Slytherins were not the only ones aware of the ‘incident’. Several students were looking at him and smirking or giggling.

Harry on the top of his head could not remember a time in his life where he had been more self-conscious. He felt discomfited and embarrassed, and even Hermione and Ron appeared uncertain what to do.

He spotted Ginny looking at him in the crowd, and as he saw the small smile on her lips and the amused look in her eyes, he relaxed considerably. She rolled her eyes and winked at him, and he found himself smiling at her.

Ginny was standing with Luna next to an empty carriage. They gestured at Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville to come join them and entered the cart. The four Gryffindors went to join them in the cart, and as Harry went in, he heard Malfoy shouting “Up for round two, Potter?” Roars of laughter erupted on the station, and Harry once again felt his face heating.

Ginny stuck her head out of the window at one side of the carriage and shouted back at Malfoy: “Yeah, you want to come watch again, Malfoy? You stood there peeping long enough last time.”

 “I’ve seen enough of Potter’s hairy arse for a life time, thanks. Thanks for the offer though. Seems like you enjoy people watching, Weaselette,” Malfoy responded.

Ginny made a rude hand gesture that would have caused Mrs. Weasley to throw a fit had she been there, and Harry stuck his head out of the other window in the cart. “Watching my arse were you, Malfoy? Perve,” Harry said, and he heard Malfoy scoff loudly. Harry retreated to the carriage, before Malfoy could come up with a retort.

They sat in silence until the carriage started moving. “You okay, mate?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. Then after a moment added: “You?”

Ron looked uncomfortable: “Yeah. I guess. I mean, the whole school knows you just… you know… with my _sister_. On the train. It’s weird.”

“Crazy, noisy monkey-sex no less,” Luna added, and then said “I heard some other Ravenclaws discussing it in the hallway on the train. There was quite a lot of detail, too. Do you want to know what they said?”

“NO,” Harry, Ron and Neville shouted and all looked surprised when they heard Hermione’s “Yes”.

They stared at her. Ron looked positively ill mixed with disgust, Neville looked shocked, Ginny looked surprised and Harry was gaping and stared at Hermione, a mix of shock, revulsion and horror painted on his face.

Hermione looked at them. “What? I’m curious.”

“They said that Ginny asked for it fast and hard and that Harry was giving it to her thoroughly against the wall and that Ginny had enjoyed when she found out Malfoy was watching,” Luna said very quickly before any of the other’s had any sense to stop her.

They all looked at her. Harry and Neville were blushing, Ron was getting greener and Hermione looked surprised and at least had the decency to blush, if only a little. Harry was surprised to see that Ginny was only blushing slightly but otherwise seemed amused. He found it slightly disconcerting.

“ _What part of ‘NO’ do you not understand,_ ” Ron shouted at her.

“Hermione said yes.” Luna looked surprised at Ron’s shouting.

“ _You could have told her later,_ ” Harry yelled incredulously. “ _Or not at all!_ ”

“Well, it’s too late now,” Hermione said, then looked at Ginny curiously: “So, is it true? Is that what happened?”

“That is _none_ of your business, Hermione,” Harry said while Ron nodded in agreement. Harry looked towards Ginny for back-up but found her sending Hermione a crooked smile.

“I’ll tell you later, Hermione,” she promised with a mischievous smile, and Hermione looked satisfied.

“They also discussed the tattoo he has of a Hungarian Horntail,” Luna continued directed at Hermione. “Apparently its wings are stretched all the way across his shoulders, and the body and tail continue down his back and thigh.”

“How on earth did _that_ rumour start? I didn’t even have my shirt _off_ ,” Harry said.

Ron spluttered.

“ _Enough already_ ,” Neville bellowed much to everybody’s surprise. “Merlin, I should have sat with Seamus and Dean.”

*

Draco was in a relatively good mood after Potter’s public humiliation on the station. There _was_ the small matter of Potter’s insinuation that Draco had been staring at his arse and retreating to his cart before Draco had the chance to fire back. Still, beginning the school year by humiliating Potter, before they had even arrived at the school, seemed promising.

Draco went in to the Great Hall flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and sat down at the Slytherin table between them, across from Pansy and Blaise.

He was looking forward to the Hogwarts food, as the cooking in the safe house had not been as skilled as that of the Hogwarts house elves’ and certainly not up to a standard befitting a Malfoy.

Obviously, Dumbledore wouldn’t be giving the Beginning of Year Speech, which Draco didn’t mind much. He had always thought the old man was a loon. On the positive side, they _were_ short speeches, and he had a suspicion that McGonagall’s would not be as short.

McGonagall stood up and began her speech. He tuned out and only listened with half an ear. She bid the 1st years welcome and talked about Dumbledore, of course. He felt the other students looking at him and suddenly felt uncomfortable. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, seeking out Potter. He was looking straight ahead with a vacant expression, and his eyes looked glassy. He was chewing his lip and blinking rapidly. Potter suddenly turned towards Draco looking him straight in the eyes. His face was expressionless but Draco noticed that his fists were clenched. Their eyes locked, and Potter didn’t blink at all. It was disconcerting and creepy. Draco swallowed involuntarily and eventually looked down. He had an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach, and he thought it might be guilt, which was weird because Malfoys don’t feel guilty. Plus, he had no reason to feel guilty. He wasn’t the one who killed Dumbledore.

As to not dwell on the unusual emotion he turned his attention to McGonagall. She was talking about ‘how in times like these we all must stand united’. She then proceeded to talk about inter-house unity. Draco’s attention was caught when McGonagall said that “to promote inter-house unity all the 7th year students will share a common room on the east wing of the 7th floor. The dormitories will be connected to a joint common room but will still be divided by house, unless you decide to do otherwise. You will lead by example,” She looked at them sternly, then proceeded: “These new accommodations are _not_ negotiable. The 7 th years will stay in the Great Hall after the feast for further instructions”.

Draco was appalled. As he scanned the Great Hall he could see that almost all of the 7th years looked as shocked and horror-struck as he felt. There were also quite a few of the 5th and 6th years’ students who looked displeased. He assumed those were the ones dating 7th year students. His look automatically turned to the Gryffindor table, where he could see Potter looking annoyed and the Weasley girl sitting across from him, clasping his hands. Potter met Draco’s eyes once more, and his expression turned from annoyance to disgust. Draco was certain his own facial expression was a match to Potter’s. Potter whispered something at the Weasel who also turned to look at Draco with disgust painted on his face. Draco’s attention turned to Granger, who was smiling and nodding enthusiastically while McGonagall talked. She _would_ be excited about something like this. That girl was nuts. Clever, Draco begrudgingly could admit to himself, but crazy.

*

Harry was shocked after McGonagall made her announcement. He had been looking forward to evenings in the Gryffindor tower, sitting in front of the fire with Ginny, watching the flames reflected in her hair, making it shine like copper, and to making love to her in his dormitory.

Ginny was equally disturbed, no doubt for the same reasons, and she sat across from him, clasping his hands. Harry looked around at the fellow 7th years and was not surprised to see that far the majority of them were looking similarly disturbed. He looked toward the Slytherin table only to catch Malfoy already staring at him, looking as disgusted as Harry felt. The other 7th year Slytherins were talking animatedly to each other across the table.

“You realize this means we’re going to be sharing common room with Malfoy,” Harry murmured to Ron, still keeping eye contact with Malfoy.

Ron groaned and looked over at the Slytherin table.

Harry and Ron turned their attention to Hermione who was sitting on Harry’s other side. She was still listening to McGonagall, looking far too enthusiastic.

“She’s nuts that one,” Ron said, looking at her incredulously, and Harry nodded in response.

Hermione heard him and looked at him. “I happen to think it’s a brilliant idea,” she said to both of them. “This is a time of war, and we need to be able to stand together, like McGonagall said. Even with people we are not particularly fond of.”

Harry and Ron continued staring at her in disbelief. “’Not particularly fond of’,” Harry quoted. “How about ‘people we hate’.”

“Oh come on, Harry. Hate is a very strong word,” she answered.

“Yes,” he said. “And it’s the _right_ word.”

“Oh really,” Hermione said. “And who do we hate?”

Harry and Ron stared at her. Harry could not believe she would even ask. “We hate Malfoy. And all the other Slytherin scum,” he said.

“I beg to differ,” Hermione persisted. “We feel a strong degree of dislike towards them, but ‘ _hate’_ is just too strong a word,” she said. “I agree that there is a strong degree of… animosity between you two and Malfoy, particularly you, Harry, but you don’t _really_ hate him.”

“I _do_ really hate him,” Harry answered.

“Harry,” she continued; “I really don’t think that you are capable of true and sincere hatred.”

“I truly and sincerely hate Voldemort,” he retaliated.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, but Voldemort killed your parents. Malfoy did no such thing.”

“No,” Harry retaliated. “He killed Dumbledore.”

“He did not kill Dumbledore!” she said. She sounded almost desperate.

“His father did, though,” Harry said.

“ _Yes,_ ” Hermione snapped at him. “And you know very well that Malfoy had nothing to do with it.”

“He knew about it, though,” Harry said.

There was pity in her eyes. “Yes, Harry, but he was scared and feared for his and his mother’s life. What would you have done?”

“I would have _told someone_ ,” he said. “And how do we even know he really didn’t have anything to do with it? Maybe he _did_ let his father in.”

“Because,” Hermione said, at if she was trying to explain something to a very dull-witted child, “he was questioned by the order and offered refuge.”

“And how can you be certain he didn’t lie?” Harry asked.

“ _Because_ ,” Hermione continued to look at him with that almost annoyingly patient look on her face, “He was, as you well know, questioned while on Veritaserum.”

Harry just glared at her.

“If anything,” Hermione continued, “He is the one who would be well in his right to feel hatred towards you, Harry.”

“WHAT?” Harry and Ron both shouted, drawing some attention from the staff table and the class mates sitting closest to them.

“ _What?_ ” Harry hissed, looking at her in disbelief.

“Well, you _did_ slash him open,” Hermione said very calmly.

“That you did,” Ron added, nodding.

Harry snapped his head around to glare at Ron who shrugged and said again: “Well you _did_.”

“He tried to _crucio_ me,” he said to Hermione.

“I am _not_ having this conversation again, Harry,” she said sternly, reminding Harry of McGonagall. “You used an illegal, unknown spell that you had _no_ idea of the consequences of. It was _completely_ irresponsible and _completely_ unacceptable!”

“ _Fine_ ”, He hissed at her. “Because _I’m_ not having this conversation again _either_.”

Harry and Hermione sat with their arms crossed, scowling and not looking at each other. Ron was fidgeting and looking uncomfortable.

“He called you a mudblood,” Harry said into the air but directed at Hermione. “How can you think that’s okay?”

“I don’t,” she said. “But I also don’t think that it is enough reason to hate someone.”

Ron looked at her. “He tried to get Hagrid in trouble in 1st year with Norbert. He also said in 2nd year that he hoped the monster in the Chamber of Secrets would kill you. And he tried to get Buck Beak killed in our 3rd year. And told all those lies to Skeeter in 4th year and made those Potter Stinks badges. And he destroyed the DA in 5th year,” he counted on his fingers.

“Exactly,” Harry continued.” And his father was in the ministry and so was his aunt. And _she_ _killed Sirius_ in case you forgot.”

Hermione looked hurt, and Harry felt a twinge of guilt at that last comment. “Of course I didn’t forget, Harry,” she said. “How can you say that?” Harry looked down, and she continued while looking at him imploringly. “I _know_ he did all those things, though I _will_ say that _he_ did not ‘destroy’ the DA. Umbridge did. And I _know_ he’s a very unpleasant person, but you have to realize that some of it also has to do with his upbringing, for which he is _certainly_ not responsible. How do you think you would act or think if you had been indoctrinated like that for your entire life? If you had someone dictate your every move. He probably hasn’t been allowed to think an independent thought ever. Considering that, it is actually quite admirable that he was able to break free from his father’s influence in the end and join our side instead.”

Harry and Ron just stared at her.

“But Harry grew up with horrible people too, and he didn’t turn out nasty,” Ron said.

“Thank you, Ron,” Harry said, grateful for the backup.

“Of course he didn’t,” Hermione said. “Their behaviour was directed _at_ Harry and thus taught him empathy and resilience.”

Harry looked over to the Slytherin table at Malfoy. At that precise moment Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry, and their eyes locked again. Malfoy was scowling at him.

“He’s up to something. I know it,” Harry said, still looking Malfoy in the eyes, and Ron’s, Hermione’s and Ginny’s heads snapped towards him. Harry was still staring directly at Malfoy, but he could sense the incredulity showing on his friends’ faces.

“Harry, _no_!” Ron said. “You are _not_ going to do the creepy stalker thing again this year.”

“I was not doing a creepy stalker thing last year,” Harry answered.

“Oh come on,” Ginny said. “You were obsessed. You followed him everywhere. You were awake at night, looking at his dot on the Marauders’ map. Yeah, we know. Ron told us.” Harry glared at Ron who ignored it.

“And if that does not describe a creepy stalker, I don’t know what does,” Ron continued.

“I was _not_ stalking him,” Harry hissed. I was _investigating_ him and _keeping him under surveillance_.”

Malfoy had looked away again, and Harry turned to face his friends in turn. “And as you _will_ recall, he _was_ up to something.”

“He was _not_ up to something.” Hermione looked furious now. “He was a scared, upset boy who didn’t know what to do.”

Harry looked at her with a determined look in his eyes. “His father was up to something. And _he_ is up to something now - I know it.” When the others just kept looking at him, he elaborated: “He keeps looking over. He’s staring at me and he’s definitely keeping an eye on me. It’s unnerving and it means he’s up to something.”

“Harry,” Ginny said. “You are staring too. You two are _always_ staring at each other. You’re being paranoid.”

“I still think…” Harry continued to say, but Hermione interrupted him.

“Harry, _stop it_ ,” she said, pointing her index finger at him, nearly poking at his face. “You will contain your obsession, you will _not_ stalk Malfoy, you will _not_ use any dangerous and unknown curses to attack him, and you _will_ play nice!”

Harry glowered at her. He had several snide remarks he would like to make to the three of them, but he refrained from doing so. Instead he folded his arms and looked over at the Slytherin table again.

*

After the tables had cleared and the other students had been dismissed, the 7th years remained in the Great Hall.

McGonagall ushered them to join each other at the Hufflepuff table, and they all sat down.

Draco was sitting next to Pansy and the Ravenclaw girl he remembered having pounded all his frustrations into a couple of times last year; twice in an empty class room and once in the hall behind a statue. It had been nice until she became clingy. Then he had kindly told her to fuck off. He didn’t remember her name and frankly didn’t care.

He directed his attention to McGonagall who was waiting for them all to quiet down.

“You will find your new accommodations in the East wing of the 7th floor behind the portrait of Sir Siegfried the Self-righteous. As mentioned your sleeping arrangements will remain the same as usual, unless you choose otherwise. This does _not_ extend to gender-mix sleeping arrangements.” She gave them a stern look. “Your trunks have been moved to your dormitories. As a trial the 7 th year students’ curfew has been extended to eleven o’ clock Sunday through Thursday and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays. The curfew has been changed as a sign of trust that you are responsible young men and women who are now of age. The new curfew may be revoked, if you do not behave yourselves. You will be allowed visits from the 6th year students. Their curfew will remain at ten o’ clock Sunday through Thursday and eleven o’ clock on Friday and Saturday. Students who are not in you year will not be permitted to sleep over. Apart from the extended curfew all school rules and procedures remain the same. Sir Siegfried will choose a new password every two weeks. The first password is ‘My, my, you _are_ a handsome fellow’. ”

Draco, among several other students, snorted when she announced the password, and he could have sworn he saw one side of McGonagall’s mouth turn slightly upwards.

“Now, I realise that this is not what many of you expected nor wanted. However, these new arrangements are not up for debate and will be evaluated at the end of the school year,” she continued and looked each of them in the eyes. “You are excused,” she said and stood waiting until the students cleared the hall.

Draco walked with his fellow Slytherins toward their new quarters.

Granger was, of course, the first to reach the portrait and Sir Siegfried, who was straddled on a hobby horse made of wood, turned around, dismounted his ‘horse’ and straightening his back as if to add height. He then bent his arms upwards and started flexing his muscles, while looking at each arm in turn. He picked up his sword and went to stand in some sort of fencing position. Granger looked at the portrait of Sir Siegfried, an amused expression on her face, and said the password. “My, my, you _are_ a handsome fellow.”

Sir Siegfried looked at her and pretended to be surprised to see the group of students standing in front of him, waiting.

“Why thank you, fair maiden. You shall pass,” he said. He gave a deep bow, flailing one arm to the side, and the portrait opened, giving passage to their new rooms.

There was a small hallway leading from the portrait hole into the common room. The hallway was narrow, about 3 feet wide and 6 feet long, and the walls were strewn with portraits.

Most of the portraits pictured Sir Siegfried on quests to rescue what the knight would probably refer to as ‘a fair maiden’ from dragons, giants, trolls and the like.

The common room was strewn with armchairs and sofas, and there was a huge fireplace with two sofas and several armchairs facing it.

There was also a study area with desks and chairs.

The windows were large and with deep windowsills where one could easily sit comfortably and look out the windows. Draco liked that. Particularly when it rained.

The décor in the common room was horrid. It seemed as if the professors had done their best to make sure this was indeed a ‘mixed house’. The armchairs and sofas were Gryffindor red (typical), and the curtains were Ravenclaw blue. The carpet was a pale yellow (not quite the Hufflepuff screeching yellow, which even the professors, may have thought was too much for a carpet) and covering the sitting area, and the upholstery on the study area chairs was the Slytherin emerald green. Draco thought he might gag at the colour theme. He nearly would have preferred the Gryffindor red and gold just to get some consistency. Nearly.

The dormitories circled the common room. The four boys’ dormitories were placed next to each other on the left from the portrait hole, and the four girls’ dormitories were placed on the right. The doors were wooden and adorned with respectively a lion on the door closest the hallway leading to the portrait hole, then a raven, then a badger and finally a snake on the door at the farthest end of the common room.

Each dorm had private basic toilet accommodations and a door leading into the communal showers they shared with the other houses.

Well, at least he didn’t have to sleep in a room directly next to a bunch of sodding Gryffindors.

*

They all stood in the common room drinking in their surroundings. Harry thought it looked very cosy. He could see why some might say that the combination of colours was a bit off, but he thought it added to the cosiness.

Eventually the students began spilling in to their respective dormitories.

Their trunks were placed in the middle of the room. Apparently they were now old and responsible enough to pick their own beds, too. Harry snorted to himself.

There were three beds at the wall opposite the door and a bed on either side of the door. Harry was the last one in and grudgingly had to pick the bed next to the door, on the right, where everyone would pass when entering the dorm.

He decided that he would try to convince one of the others to swap at some point.

As they chose their beds, the trunks moved from the centre of the room to their respective beds.

Their class schedules were put out for them on their trunks. Harry sat himself on the bed, his back resting against the wall and began studying his schedule.

All the Gryffindors’ classes were with the Slytherins. That meant that should he be so unlucky as to have chosen the same subjects as him, he was going to have to spend every single class with Malfoy. And now he couldn’t even avoid him in the common room. He was going to spend all his waking hours in the near vicinity of Draco bloody Malfoy.

He groaned loudly and slumped forward resting his head in his hands.

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked and looked at him questioningly.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice muffled as he was still cradling his face with his hands. “I just realised I’m going to spend all my waking hours, all day every day alongside Draco Malfoy. I can’t even escape in our fucking common room.”

“Well, at least now you’ll know where he is all the time, so you don’t have to stalk him,” Seamus said, grinning.

Harry snapped up his head and glared at Seamus, narrowing his eyes.

His dorm mates laughed, and Harry threw himself on the bed lying flat on the back pressing a pillow over his head.

This had really been a shitty start of the school year.

 


	2. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School has started and the 7th years decide to blow off some steam one Friday night.

Time passed by in a blur.

The first three weeks had been uneventful, apart from the insane amount of homework.

There had been no altercations with Malfoy, who seemed to keep out of Harry’s way. Harry knew he should be pleased with that, but as it were, it only added to his suspicion that Malfoy was up to no good. Why else would he avoid Harry, if he wasn’t trying not to get caught doing something illicit. Whenever Harry expressed his suspicions to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, their reactions continued to be disappointing. Depending on their moods, and the amount of time he had spent voicing various arguments to support his hunch, they would ignore him, argue with him, shout at him or just plainly get up and leave.

Hermione had warned him on more than one occasion that he was being erratic and almost (just _almost_ , Harry had noted) acting as crazy as he had the previous school year.

Their schedules were packed, and the occasional blank spaces on them were meant for study time and homework.

Harry’s schedule included Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Divination, Astronomy and Herbology because Hermione had insisted on it.

Harry was glad to discover that he did not share every class with Malfoy. Malfoy didn’t take Divination so Harry was rid of him at least those hours during the week. He knew from Hermione that Malfoy did Ancient Runes instead, and that he also took Arithmancy, as she also attended those subjects. Ancient Runes was scheduled at the same time as Divination, and Arithmancy in one of Harry’s free study periods.

Snape was still teaching Defence, and Slughorn Potions, as had been discussed on the Hogwarts Express, and Monday consisted of a double lesson Defence, one free study period and a double lesson Potions; his favourite subject, ruined by his least favourite teacher who definitely had it in for him, and his least favourite subject made worse by Slughorn who definitely did not have it in for him but was freakishly annoying and embarrassing with his obvious infatuation with Harry.

Harry had been pleasantly surprised that there had been no genuine arguments with Snape yet and was actually beginning to dare hope that this year would be less affected by conflicts between the two of them.

Enter week four…

Normally Harry wouldn’t complain about a double period Defence class Monday first thing, but even if Defence was his best subject, it was still a double period of Snape, looking just as sour as always. To top it off, it was a ‘wands away class’, which meant that they would have to sit for two hours listening to Snape going on about the five safest ways to conquer a Basilisk.

By the end of class, Harry had managed to lose thirty five points from Gryffindor. He lost ten points for being late, even though he wasn’t even the last one to sit down. He lost five points for disturbing ‘the students actually willing to learn’, when his wand rolled off his desk, clattering to the floor. He lost another five points, when Dean pointed out that Harry actually _had_ conquered a Basilisk, and why didn’t they just ask him. Harry had thought that it was completely unfair that _he_ be punished for it, but Dean had landed himself in detention as well as having lost ten points, so Harry chose not to argue as to not join Dean in detention. And lastly, he had lost fifteen points when he was walking past Malfoy on their way out of the classroom and the bastard had stuck out his foot, tripping Harry, and Harry had lost the points ‘for kicking another student’.

He was fuming by lunch time and sat down at the Gryffindor table between Ginny and Neville.

Ginny looked at him quizzically and raised an eyebrow. She was about to open her mouth to speak, when Neville caught her eye and shook his head.

Instead she pecked his cheek and put her hand on his back, rubbing it in small soothing circles. They had hardly been able to spend any time together, and having been used to having sex at least once a day over the summer, Harry was beginning to get antsy, despite daily wanks. It just wasn’t the same as the feel of another person’s hand, mouth or tightness around his cock.

Harry poked at his food and only had a few bites. He was in a foul mood, and it was all Snape’s fault. And Malfoy’s. The banes of his existence. Well, the banes of his existence in _Hogwarts_ at least.

Harry felt Ginny’s ankle gently circling around his lower leg. Her hand dropped from his back to rest on his thigh, which she started stroking softly. Harry felt her hand sliding a little further up with each stroke. He turned to look at her and found her having a conversation with Hermione about how hard the year was going to be and about different methods to relieve stress.

Ginny turned her head and looked at Harry, a devious smile on her lips. She then discretely let her hand slide up even further to rest on his half hard cock, giving it a squeeze. She motioned her head towards the entrance of the Great Hall and winked at him.

Harry didn’t waste much time but got up to leave with her immediately.

Hermione looked at them quizzically at their sudden departure. Then she realised what was going on. “Oh honestly, you two,” she said, looking reproachful.

Harry grinned at her goofily, and she rolled her eyes. “At least don’t be late for Potions. Starts in half an hour, you know.”

Luckily, Ron was too focused on his food to notice anything.

Harry turned around and went to catch up with Ginny who was already out of the hall. She continued up the stairs, and Harry followed her. When they reached the first floor, she quickly pulled him down an empty corridor and into an alcove between two statues.

“ _Here_?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Yes, _here_ ,” Ginny answered, smiling at him mischievously. “Now shut up.”

Ginny pressed him against the wall, kissing him deeply. Harry quickly pulled away and started kissing her neck and throat. He had one arm around her, holding her tightly in place, so there was less chance of her being seen by any students passing the alcove, and the other hand roaming her breasts; kneading, stroking and pinching. He let his hand move from her breasts and started pulling up her robes. Ginny’s robes were up to her hips, when Harry slipped his hand under them and into her knickers. Ginny was already wet, and he had no problem sliding in three fingers at once. He finger fucked her hard, as he knew she liked. He felt her hand joining his in her pants as she began rubbing her clit. Ginny had the other arm lodged around Harry’s neck and was breathing hard into his shoulder, struggling not to moan as she neared climax. She stifled a moan as she came. Harry could feel her clenching around his fingers, and he felt ready to burst. Ginny slumped against him to recover. After a minute she began rubbing her palm across the bulge in Harry’s groin. Harry looked at her dazedly, as she kneeled in front of him. She looked up at him and quickly pulled his robes up above his hips, where he held it in place using an elbow. Harry was wearing jeans underneath his robes, and Ginny swiftly unbuttoned them and pulled both trousers and pants down over his buttocks. She wasted no time but quickly put his cock in her mouth and started sucking. This was the one thing besides hand jobs that Ginny didn’t excel at sexually. Harry hadn’t had any blowjobs from anybody else, so there was nothing to compare with, but he had an inkling there might be room for improvement. It still felt great though, obviously, and Harry was quickly nearing orgasm. His hands were both on Ginny's head, tangling her hair, and he was having a hard time not bucking his hips. Ginny was holding his shaft with one hand and massaging his balls with the other. While still massaging his balls, she moved her middle finger backwards grazing his perineum. That caused Harry to tip over, and he shut his eyes tight, clenched his hand and bit into his fist so as not to moan loudly, as he spilled in to her mouth, and she swallowed what she could.

Harry was breathing hard and thought he could practically hear his own heartbeat.

“Seriously, _again_?” someone said. Harry’s eyes snapped open, and Ginny quickly turned to look at the unwelcome interruption.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Ginny said, wiping the last droplets of Harry’s come off her chin with her sleeve.

The familiar face of Malfoy stood looking at them with one eyebrow raised. He followed Ginny’s movements with his eyes.

“You really _do_ have a public kink, don’t you, Weaselette,” he said, grinning maliciously. Ginny got a pink tinge to her cheeks, which Harry chose to attribute general embarrassment over the situation and not his growing suspicion that Malfoy might, in fact, be right.

“Didn’t take you for at swallower,” Malfoy continued, smirking. “The Weasel will be fascinated when he hears. In fact, I think I’ll go tell him now.” Malfoy turned on his heel and began walking down the hall. “You might want to get yourself tucked in, Potter,” he said without looking back. “Potions is in five minutes.”

*

Potter was acting strange, Draco thought. The look on his face suggested that he had gone back to his ‘I-know-you’re-up-to-something-thing’ he had had all during 6th year. That had been annoying as hell and had left Draco with some quite severe scarring on his torso. Though Draco must admit, it had been a blessing in disguise. He had been sobbing in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, frustrated, upset, scared and angry, trying to comprehend his father’s plan and its consequences, and Potter had walked in. Draco didn’t hold it against Potter (much) that he had cursed him, not that he would ever let him know that. After all, he was only trying to defend himself: Draco _had_ been attempting to crucio him.

Anyway, apparently it took some gashing for Draco to be able to clear his head and decide that the plan to kill Dumbledore was definitely a bad one. Which was odd as one might have thought, Draco would turn against Potter’s cause, since he was the one who sliced Draco open.

Draco was pleased to see that Granger, the Weasel, Longbottom and the Weaselette seemed to be trying to hold back Potter’s creepy need to stalk Draco. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with ‘stalker-Potter’ after all. Potter probably thought he was being discreet and that Draco didn’t notice him staring suspiciously at him. Potter was many things, but master of subtlety and discretion was not one of them. That man wore his feelings on his sleeves.

For the first three weeks Draco had been trying to keep out of Potter’s way in hopes of lessening the likeliness of Potter stalking him, but he found that that only seemed to fuel the Gryffindor’s ridiculous suspicions. So come their fourth week Draco had made up his mind to just act as he had always done around Potter: Flinging insults and not avoiding conflicts. If Potter was to annoy the living daylights out of Draco, Draco might as well have fun in the process.

He had been walking the corridors contemplating this and found himself in a seemingly empty corridor on the first floor, when he heard some slopping noises and poorly contained panting.

He had looked around; searching for a source to the sound, and his eyes had fallen to rest on an alcove between two statues.

And oh, this was just too good to be true, Draco thought. He was surprised when he recognised the occupants of the alcove as the very same two people he had been watching having sex on the Hogwarts Express. No... Not watching. _Observing critically_.  Yes. And gathering material for future blackmail. Exactly. That was what that was.

They were standing in some sort of awkward embrace. Potter had an arm around the Weaselette’s waist and was kissing and sucking her throat and collarbone. His other arm was lodged between the two of them, and given that the Weaselette’s robes were pulled up, and she was panting and whimpering, Draco had no trouble deducing exactly what was going on.

He saw the Weaselette shudder and slump against Potter.

Draco was still in the process of deciding how to make his presence known, when the Weaselette swiftly pulled up Potter’s robes, unbuttoned his trousers and dropped to her knees.

Potter’s eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open. His hands were tangled in the female Weasley’s hair. He was obviously trying to restrain himself and not buck his hips against her mouth but did not succeed entirely.

After a few minutes Draco saw Potter shut his eyes tight, his jaw dropping and his head falling backwards. Potter had clenched his fist and was biting down on it as if not to make a sound. It didn’t work, though, Draco thought. He could easily hear the muffled sound of an orgasm. Not that he was listening.

Draco quickly decided on how to make himself known and settled on “Seriously, _again?_ ”

The look on Potter’s face, when his eyes had snapped open was been priceless. Draco had to restrain himself from snickering.

He watched as the Weasley girl wiped come off her chin. He was sure he saw the redhead blush as he had asked “You _do_ have a public kink, don’t you, Weaselette?” and he was sure that Potter saw the blush to her face as well.

And so he expressed his surprise at her being a swallower, which he really _was_ surprised at, and promised that he would inform her brother. He then made sure Potter became aware that he was standing in the middle of the hallway with his cock hanging out.

His task here was done, and Draco was very satisfied, as he hurried to the dungeons.

It wasn’t until he was well on his way there that he remembered he was a prefect and should have given them both detentions. He would have to be more alert to that.

Draco made it to class with two minutes to spare, and most of the students were already seated in the class room. He could see Granger straightening her back and craning her neck when he entered the room, obviously hoping it was Potter. When she realised that it wasn’t, her face fell into a frown, and she kept on eyeing the door.

Draco put down his things at a desk in front of the class and dashed over to the desk where Weasley and Granger were sitting next to each other. They both look up when he stopped in front of them.

“What did you do to him? Where is he?” Weasley asked, already jumping to conclusions.

“ _I_ didn’t do anything to him. As to where he is, I imagine he is well on the way. He just needed to tuck himself in after the blowjob your sister gave him. In the _hallway_ , no less.” Draco made sure his voice was loud enough to carry, but not too loud to give the impression that this was just a polite share of information as to where their friend was. Weasley stared at Draco and his face drained from colour. “Seems she really _does_ have a public kink, doesn’t it?” Draco continued, and the colour of Weasley’s face changed from white to puce in a second. Draco went for a pensive look and tapped his lips with his index finger as if thinking hard about something. “Didn’t peg her for a swallower, though.” Weasley turned green. “I _wonder_ who taught her _that_ ,” he said and made a point of looking at Dean Thomas.

Weasley’s head snapped towards Thomas, whose eyes widened. Thomas’ eyes darted quickly between Draco and Weasley. The Weasel had narrowed his eyes and was turning red again. He was looking at Thomas with a murderous glare to his face. Thomas’ expression was a mixture of nervousness, fright and guilt and definitely bore evidence that Thomas _did_ indeed have something to do with it.

Granger was pointedly not looking at the Weasel and was, unsuccessfully, pretending not to listen.

Draco sent them each a smirk and went to take his seat at the front of the class. The rest of the class were following his movement through the room, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back and a ‘well done, Draco’ as he sat down smiling.

Slughorn entered the room, flamboyantly throwing his arms out in what was obviously supposed to be a grand gesture but mostly looked like he was getting ready for a big hug.

“Welcome, welcome, class,” he said theatrically, and Draco rolled his eyes.

The class had been reduced to Pansy, Blaise and himself from Slytherin and Granger, the Weasel, Thomas, Finnigan and Potter from Gryffindor.

At that moment the door opened, and Potter entered the room, red in the face and out of breath. He avoided eye contact with anyone and gave a subdued “sorry, professor” before heading for a desk at the back of the room.

Slughorn, however, grabbed Potter’s shoulders with both his hands, holding him in place. “Harry, Harry, Harry my boy. It is so good to see you again.” Draco scoffed. It had only been four days since their last Potions lesson. Honestly, the fact that Slughorn wasn’t drooling was quite impressive.

“Not the best way to start the week, being late for class though, is it?” Slughorn continued.

Potter blushed and mumbled “Sorry professor”.

“Not at all, not at all, my boy. I am sure you have your reasons,” Slughorn said, still holding Potter in a firm grip, and Potter blushed even more, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Draco snickered along with Pansy and Blaise, and he heard Finnigan let out a loud laugh, which he tried to disguise with a cough.

Draco turned his head and looked directly at Weasley, smirking, who looked ill and Granger who looked very uncomfortable.

“Just find yourself a seat, dear boy, and continue to dazzle us all with your immense talent.”

Draco rolled his eyes inwardly again. Immense talent, indeed. Potter was average at potions at best and had quite obviously cheated his way all through last year. And there had been absolutely nothing noticeable about Potter’s performance this year. Not that that sorry excuse for a professor would ever think that about the Boy Who fucking Lived. Star struck as he was.

At that, Slughorn let go of Potter’s shoulders and gave him a hard slap on the back. Potter’s eyes remained fixed on the floor, as he walked to an empty desk at the back of the class. As Potter passed his desk, Draco whispered “suck-up” just loud enough for Potter to hear.

“Fuck you,” Potter retaliated, and Draco snickered.

*

It was absolutely horrible.

Not only had he been late for class; he had been late for _Slughorn’s_ class, and count on Slughorn to make a scene of it. And it was just obvious that everybody _knew_ _exactly_ why he was late. Bloody Malfoy.

And Slughorn just _had_ to make a point of Harry’s apparent skill at potions, which Harry knew had decreased drastically now that he no longer had the help of The Half Blood Prince. Harry would be able to find the book again in the Room of Requirement if he wanted to, but he knew he would never go looking for it.

He went to sit at a desk at the back of the class room. Seamus and Dean were paired up at a desk as were Hermione and Ron, so Harry went to sit alone at the one next to Ron and Hermione’s.

Harry could feel Ron’s eyes on him as he went to sit down, and he made sure to avoid eye contact.

Slughorn began the lesson and addressed the class.

“For the remainder of the year, we are going to be mainly producing potions that require two people brewing. You will partner up with whomever you chose to sit next to today, and that will be your partner for the remainder of the school year,” Slughorn announced.

Ron and Hermione, Seamus and Dean, and Parkinson and Zabini partnered up. ‘Oh hell’, Harry thought, as he did the math.

“Harry, my boy, if you would join Mr. Malfoy at the front of the class…”

Harry reluctantly got up and sat down at Malfoy’s desk. Malfoy scooted his chair as far away from Harry as the corner of the table would allow, and Harry did the same.

Slughorn came to stand next to Harry and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Excellent, Harry my boy. Mr. Malfoy will surely benefit from your wits.”

Harry dared a glance in Malfoy’s direction, where he found Malfoy looking at him with a murderous glare.

He groaned and slammed his head onto the desk.

*

Draco was not happy. He had been paired up with Potter in potions, all because he went to class too late to sit next to Pansy or Blaise. And he wouldn’t have been so late if not for Potter and his pervert girlfriend.

His subconscious told him that he could have _not_ stopped to watch. No, not ‘watch’. _Spy_! But seriously, it was another opportunity to humiliate Potter, and it was just not done not to take advantage of that.

All in all; it was fucking Potter’s fault that Draco had to suffer his company and less than mediocre talents in potions _for an entire year_.

And on top of that, he was certain he was going to have to listen to that buffoon Slughorn praise Potter and his extraordinary skills and how lucky Draco was to be teamed up with such a potion’s wiz, when in reality Potter would be the one harvesting the fruits of Draco’s talents and hard work.

Fucking Potter!

And to top it off, Draco was not even going to be able to escape him in the common room. There was going to be absolutely no peace this year.

Slughorn went on to introduce the first potion they were going to brew together.

It was an Anti-Inhibition potion, a potion used to, as its name suggested, throw one’s inhibitions. It was a potion with many steps, and would take an ample amount of time to finish.

“You will notice in your Advanced Potions book that there is no specific time set for the brewing of this potion. The brewing may take as little as three weeks and up to three months or more. This is due to the fact that this particular potion requires the brewers to be able to work together. The potion can _feel_ the brewers’ cooperation skills so to speak,” Slughorn said and smiled.

Draco scoffed. There was no way his potion was ever going to be finished with Potter as partner.

The class was mainly a long and boring introduction to the process of the brewing and the effects of it. It was a potion that would bring forward a person’s utmost desires and make a shy and naturally inhibited person able to act on them. Slughorn made a point of repeating several times how this was a very dangerous potion to be handled with caution and went on to tell them about Harold Ogleby who had taken a large dose by accident and come to a sticky end. Literally. He had tried to chase down several woman in Hyde Park, stark naked, then went on to try taming a zoo lion and had finally stolen and eaten so much sticky toffee it made his stomach explode.

Fortunately, even though it was an extremely boring lesson, it required a minimum of interaction with Potter, for which Draco was grateful.

 

Draco was in a foul mood. After the Potions lesson ended, he walked the dungeons, once again brooding over the fact that he was stuck on Potter. Fucking nuisance.

He found himself walking along a deserted corridor in the dungeons near his old quarters, looking down, when suddenly he bumped into someone. He lost his balance and grabbed for whomever it was he had collided with.

Of course!

“Potter,” Draco said. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhm…” Potter said, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Draco. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, _Potter_ ,” Draco said.

“Well, it’s none of your business, what I’m doing here either, _Malfoy_ ,” Potter retorted.

They looked at each other as if not knowing what to do next. Draco felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Would you mind letting go of my sleeve now?” Potter asked.

Draco looked down to where he was still clutching Potter’s sleeve, and he quickly let go.

“Right, so… See you in class, I guess. Or in the common room or whatever…” Draco said and hurried away. Potter hurried in the other direction.

That was _so_ awkward, Draco thought.

*

Harry was sitting next to Ginny at supper with Neville, Ron and Hermione across from them.

He had a clear view of the Slytherin table.

“He’s up to something,” he said, directed at no one in particular.

Malfoy hadn’t come down for supper yet, but of course they all knew whom he was talking about.

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes, Ginny let out a sigh and shook her head in disbelief, Neville looked curiously at Harry, and Hermione clanked her knife and fork onto the table and looked at him. “Harry,” she said with a dangerously low and slightly shaky voice. “We covered this several times before. What did I tell you at the feast?”

Harry looked at her. “You told me he wasn’t up to something.”

“What else?” Hermione demanded.

“You told me to stop obsessing and not to follow him,” he answered.

“Exactly,” she said, leaning in and looking him in the eyes without blinking. “And that is _precisely_ what you are going to do.”

Harry didn’t answer her but directed his gaze at the Slytherin table once more.

“Why do you think, he’s up to something, anyway?” Neville asked.

Harry’s eyes didn’t leave the Slytherin table when he answered. “It’s Malfoy. He’s always up to something.”

“Yes, we established at the feast and on several other occasions that that is your belief,” Ginny said. “But that doesn’t answer why you think he’s up to something _now_. You haven’t mentioned it at all last week.”

Harry turned his head to look at Ginny. “I caught him wandering a deserted corridor in the dungeons today. If _that_ is not suspicious, I don’t know what is. What was he doing there? Plus, he hasn’t come for supper yet.”

“Well,” Ron said, “Apparently _you_ were wandering a deserted corridor in the dungeons as well. What were _you_ doing there?”

“I was going to ask Slughorn for a new Potions partner, when everybody had cleared out and Slughorn had finished tidying the classroom. I went for a stroll while I waited,” Harry said.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. “And has it occurred to you that maybe Malfoy was doing the same thing?”

“Or maybe he was feeling sentimental and went for a walk there. He did live there for six years,” Ron suggested.

Harry looked at them, considering their suggestions, which quite frankly, to him seemed rather inadequate and farfetched. “That doesn’t explain why he hasn’t come for supper yet,” Harry said, his eyes once more on the Slytherin table and occasionally darting towards the entrance.

“It might if he’s as eager as you in getting a new partner in Potions. He could be talking to Slughorn as we speak.” Neville gestured towards the professors’ table, and Harry noticed that Slughorn wasn’t there. “ _Did_ you get a new partner?” Neville asked.

“No. Slughorn was certain I am going to make a good influence on Malfoy’s performance,” Harry answered, to which Ron snorted.

“Plus,” Ginny added, “seeing as the dungeons were his home for many years, it seems weirder that you were there than that he was.”

Harry sat still, worrying his lip, his eyes narrowed as if pondering hard.

“I’m not buying it,” he finally said. “He’s up to something.”

“Harry, _enough_!” Hermione said a bit too loudly to Harry’s taste, as she stood up, resting both hands on the table and leaning over. “ _Stop. Obsessing. About. Malfoy!_ ” She hissed, still way too loud to Harry’s liking.

“For heaven’s sake, Hermione, lower your voice,” Harry hissed back at her.

Hermione seemed frantic now and quite frankly, a little bit scary, Harry thought.

She was gesturing wildly and pointed visibly towards the Slytherin table. “If you would stop obsessing about just one person, you might notice that _none_ of the Slytherin 7 th years have come for supper yet,” she said, and Harry opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it. “And _no_! They are _not_ helping him carry out some crazy scheme. They have simply decided to eat. Supper. Later!”

And it _would_ be during her wild gesturing and pointing towards the Slytherin table that Malfoy and his cronies entered the hall.

Hermione who was, in Harry’s opinion and to put it mildly, _not_ in her right mind at present, thoughtlessly pointed at the group of Slytherins that had just entered. “ _See_?” She said, still pointing and still way too loudly, and Harry saw Malfoy look at the group of Gryffindors, frowning.

“Thanks a lot, Hermione! Now he’s going to know that I’m on to him,” Harry hissed, and Hermione stood up.

She removed her hands from the table, stood up straight and looked at him. “I can’t deal with this right now,” she said and made to leave. “Let me know if you come to your senses.”

She left the Great Hall, the others watching her back as she walked away.

Harry turned his attention to Ginny, Ron and Neville. “Okay, so she has made her opinion clear,” he said. “What do you guys think?”

Ginny looked at him as one would look at a person who was mentally unstable and had to be approached with the utmost care. “I think, Hermione is right, Harry. You need to stop. It’s getting weird,” she said. “Plus, it’s _me_ , you are dating. Not him. Your focus is completely misplaced.”

Harry looked questioningly at Ron and Neville.

“Agreed,” Ron said.

“Me too,” Neville agreed.

“But he’s acting weird,” Harry tried to make them see.

“No Harry. _You_ are acting weird!” Neville said and then continued. “As much as I dislike the git, and rest assured, I _really_ dislike him, I don’t think he’s up to something. It would be extremely stupid of him, wouldn’t you say? I mean; why would he tell on You-Know-Who and all the death eaters and then scheme some evil plan against our side afterwards. That would just be plain stupid.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Neville continued. “And I know, you are going to say ‘yeah, well Malfoy _is_ stupid’, but really, Harry. He isn’t. And he’s a Slytherin, and they are all about self-preservation. He wouldn’t burn his bridges like that.”

“Well said, Neville,” Ginny said. “When did you get so smart?” She winked at him as to imply that she meant that as a compliment and not as if she thought he had been stupid all the years prior.

Neville smiled and blushed.

Harry just looked at him. He could understand what Neville said – he just had a very, very hard time accepting that maybe Malfoy wasn’t up to something. That would just be plain strange and completely out of character.

Harry sat for a while, pensive, not talking. Then he broke the silence. “I have decided to try not to ‘ _obsess_ ’, about him this year, as you like to call my observations.” The others let out sighs of relief. Harry lifted up his hand to indicate that he wasn’t done talking. “However, I reserve the right to start investigating and observing again, if anything out of the ordinary occurs.” He looked at them as to indicate that this was the end of the discussion and then stood up to leave.

“I suppose that is as good as it gets,” Harry heard Ron mumble, as Harry stood up.

 “I’m going back to the common room,” he said. “See you later, Gin?”

“I’ll sneak in,” she answered and winked at him.

As he walked away, Harry heard Ron make a choked sound and Ginny and Neville laughing.

*

Tuesday and Wednesday passed uneventful, though packed with homework. Draco knew that Thursday’s Potions lesson would most likely be horrible, as they were to begin the brewing of the Anti-Inhibition potion, and he would have to interact with Potter.

Just as on Monday’s Potions class, he arrived just on time to spend as little time as possible in Potter’s vicinity, and sat next to him at their table. He mimicked Potter and scooted his chair as far away from the other boy as the table corner would allow.

Slughorn had written instructions on the blackboard with a listing of the ingredients they would need. There was a fair amount of ingredients needed but no more than the average potion. However, several of the ingredients had to be handled with extreme care.

At the beginning of the lesson, Slughorn had excused himself, mumbling something about essays and had left the classroom.

Draco began reading the instructions carefully and copying them down to a step-by-step-instruction on a piece of parchment to keep next to him on the table. Potter, the idiot, read the first line of the instructions and began grinding Ashwinder eggs in a mortar along with the dragonfly wings. Draco suddenly noticed out of the corner of his eye that Potter had his wand out and made to light the ingredients on fire as per instruction.

“Potter, you idiot!” Draco exclaimed and knocked his hand aside.

“What?” Potter asked, clearly annoyed.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Draco answered.

“I _am_ _not_ ,” Potter said. “It says in the instruction to grind the Ashwinder eggs with the dragonfly wings into a paste, and then set it on fire.”

“Yes, Potter. I know what it says. I can read, too,” Draco said harshly.

“Then what is your problem?” Potter asked, turning around facing Draco and propping his hands on his hips.

Draco counted to five in his head, pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply. “If we are to partner in this class, you need to pull your head out of your arse and do things properly,” he hissed. “You need to read the _entire_ instruction, before you begin making the potion. Try reading the next line in the instructions.”

Potter sighed but obliged. “Make sure to soak the dragonfly wings in water for eleven minutes, as dry wings will have a highly explosive effect when ground with Ashwinder eggs.”

“And did you soak the dragonfly wings beforehand?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Potter said through gritted teeth.

“Exactly!” Draco stated. “And really, Potter, you ought to know by now, seeing as this is NEWT level Potions, that Ashwinder eggs and dragonflies are _relatively_ harmless when prepared _separately_ and when added to a potion _separately_. However, as you also ought to know, they are both highly incendiary when prepared, mixed or added with other ingredients and _extremely_ incendiary and explosive when mixed with each other,” he added and continued, before Potter could respond. “ _Plus_ , as long as we are forced to be partners, things such as these are _our_ problem – not mine.”

Draco could see the inner turmoil in Potter. On the one hand, Potter _knew_ that Draco was right; that he should have read the whole recipe, and that he had been about to do something potentially extremely dangerous, and Draco had prevented it. On the other, Draco knew that Potter would rather stab his own eyes out than admit to Draco that he was right.

“All right, _fine_ ,” Potter finally said. “Whatever.”

Potter turned to read the instructions again, and Draco went back to needlepointing the different steps.

They stood next to each other in silence for a while, preparing ingredients, when Potter’s knife stilled. He turned around to look at Draco. Draco rolled his eyes inwardly and kept on chopping. Potter kept still and kept staring at Draco, who eventually had enough and turned to face Potter.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, what? What do you want?” Draco said, annoyed and a little louder than was actually his intention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few of the other students lift their heads.

“I hate you,” Potter hissed in a low voice. “I hate you, and I _know_ that you’re up to something. I _know_ it.” Then he turned to concentrate on preparing the ingredients again.

Draco stared at him in disbelief. “Well I hate you too, Potter. And I think you’re a fucking freak with your pathetic obsession with me,” he hissed. “Why don’t you just cut the crap and say exactly what it is you want to say to me?”

Potter turned around to face Draco again. He pointed his index finger at Draco like a mother would point it at a naughty child. Potter’s eyes were narrowed. “You are the devious scum spawn of a Death Eater, and I think the Order is mad to trust you. I do not believe for a second that you have switched sides. I think you’re an evil spy, and I think you helped your father in to the school to kill Dumbledore,” he said.

“So you got that off your chest, Potter. Feel better now?” Draco said. “Anything else or can we get back to work?”

“Fuck. You. You fucking. Wanker,” Potter said.

“Oh, nice retort, Potter. Vey inventive. What would your mother say if she knew you use that kind of language? Oh, wait, she can’t say anything. Because your mother’s dead, Potter. Isn’t she?”

Draco knew that that was below the belt and actually, untrue to character, felt something akin to guilt, when he saw the hurt in Potter’s eyes. However, the unwelcome feeling vanished the moment he saw Potter’s hurt expression quickly turn to contempt, then determination. Draco didn’t react in time to avoid Potter’s fist on his cheekbone, when it landed there.

Draco stumbled backwards, half because the blow was actually quite hard and half because he was surprised that Potter would actually attack him in the middle of class – even if Slughorn wasn’t present. The nerve of him. Draco vaguely noticed the joint intake of breath from the rest of the students in the classroom. He looked at Potter who stood with his fists clenched by his side, looking furious. Potter was not going to get away with this. Draco charged and put a well-placed fist in Potter’s face, splitting his lip. Potter stumbled backwards. He stuck out his tongue and licked his lower lip. Draco thought he must have tasted the metallic taste of blood, because Potter reached up and touched his lip with his middle and index finger. He looked at his finger and saw the blood. Then Potter flew towards him again and knocked him over. The back of Draco’s head bounced against the floor when they fell over, and Potter landed on top of him. Potter straddled Draco, proceeded to punch him again and landed his fist on Draco’s brow. Draco felt something trickling down his temple and presumed the brow had split. He reached up and grabbed the collar of Potter’s robes and pulled him down, so their faces were an inch from each other.

“What are you going to do, Malfoy? Kiss me?” Potter mocked.

Draco took aim and head-butted Potter as hard as he could, given the fact that he wasn’t able to put full force behind the butt, as his head was resting on the floor. To his satisfaction, he heard a crack from Potter’s nose, and blood spattered part of his own neck and cheek.

Potter touched his nose gingerly. “Fuck, Malfoy,” he exclaimed, looking accusingly at Draco, as if he hadn’t just split Draco’s eyebrow.

“No thank you, I’ll pass,” Draco said as he grabbed both Potters arms and forcibly removed him. Draco made to stand up but felt an urge to punch Potter in the gut full force, before he straightened himself out. He could hear Potter gasp for air. Potter was kneeling and holding both hands to his stomach, as he looked up at Draco, his face full of loathing. Draco looked down at him.

“I see you found your rightful place, Potter,” said Draco condescendingly. “Would you like me to hold out my robes so you can kiss the hem?”

Potter narrowed his eyes even further, clenched his fist, took aim and punched Draco in the balls.

That was when both he and Potter were hit by a Petrificus Totalus.

Seconds later Thomas came rushing into the classroom closely followed by Slughorn, who was panting loudly.

Slughorn came to an abrupt halt in the doorway, as he took in the scene before him. For a few moments he looked as if he didn’t quite know what to do. Then he walked over to the two petrified students and looked at them thoughtfully.

“I am going to un-petrify you,” he said. “You are going to stay down and not move. If you do move or try to attack each other in any way, be it orally, physically, by wand or by wandless magic, I shall be forced to petrify you again and take you both to the headmistress’ office. Is that clear?”

Draco thought that question was just plain moronic, seeing as neither could so much as bat an eye to indicate whether or not they understood.

After Slughorn had broken the spell, both Draco and Potter lay completely still. Slughorn directed his wand at first Potter’s split lip and healed it, then Potter’s nose which made a loud crack as it snapped into place. It gave Draco some satisfaction that Potter threw his hands up to his nose with a groan of pain. All guilt at having mentioned Potter’s mother had gone and Draco only felt contempt and anger towards the fucking bastard.

Slughorn then pointed his wand at Draco’s brow and healed it.

“You may stand up,” Slughorn said.

They both stood up, shooting hateful glances at each other and faced Slughorn.

“Now boys,” he continued. “Do you have some sort of explanation for this unfortunate affair?”

Both Draco and Potter were quiet. Then Potter dared: “Boys will be boys?”

Slughorn gave a jovial laugh and patted Potter on the shoulder. “As much as it pains me to give you detention, dear Harry, I fear that I must.” His expression was, indeed, one of true sorrow. “You will both receive detention every Thursday evening for the next three weeks, not including tonight. You will meet here at 8 pm. As for house points, I don’t see that we need to deduct any today. Boys will, after all, be boys.” He winked at Potter, who blushed and looked uncomfortable.

Slughorn gave Potter another pat on the shoulder and beamed at him, then turned to face Draco. He lifted his index finger in the same manner Potter had, and said “Now, Mr. Malfoy. I think you would agree that picking fights in class is not suitable behaviour for a young wizard. You would do well to think about this behaviour in the future.”

Draco wanted to grab his finger and break it off. Instead he went for “Yes, sir,” with gritted teeth.

Come Friday, most of the 7th years were in a foul mood and there was a feeling of despair in the air. The amount of homework that week had been diabolical. Even some of the Ravenclaws seemed resigned.

That was why, when Finnigan hauled out three bottles of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey, the protests against rule-breaking and disrupting homework were half-hearted, even from Granger.

And so, Terry Boot conjured up shots glasses for everybody.

That was when Blaise suggested they play a drinking game, to get their minds off the work load.

Draco was split between wanting to let loose and have fun for the first time in who knows when, and the dangers of letting his inhibitions go. Being a Slytherin he was always wary of letting his guards down as he knew very well that any debaucheries on his part might well be used as blackmail in the future. He thought of the possible consequences and scenarios involving future blackmail and realised then that with the direction his life was taking right now, a little normal teenage behaviour would hardly matter.

There were, of course, some goody two shoes who did not want to be involved in neither drinking nor the game, and they settled down in their respective dorms to do whatever.

They ended up being a fair group of participants: All of the Slytherins, save Theo and Millie, all the Gryffindors, Boot, Corner and whichever of the Patil twins from Ravenclaw, and Macmillan, Smith, Abbott and Bones from Hufflepuff.

They started out with spin the bottle, which was uneventful to say the least, and it got trivial after a while. After having played for an hour or so, Draco had had to kiss both Patil twins and Abbott. The kisses were generally small pecks and didn’t offer much excitement. So when someone suggested they switch to truth or dare, Draco seconded the suggestion.

“But how are we going to know if people are telling the truth?” asked Brown. Typical Gryffindor question!

“I guess we’re just going to trust each other, aren’t we?” Pansy said, smiling innocently.

“I would trust a Slytherin to tell the truth the day Snape washes his hair,” Potter said, deadpan. He then directed his glare at Draco and narrowed his eyes. “Especially you.”

Draco had had no interaction with Potter since their altercation the day before and their class mates had, tactfully, avoided the subject, although it was clear that the rest of their year knew about it just as well as those who had been present.

Draco cocked his head and asked sweetly “Aw, don’t you trust me, Potter? You hurt my feelings.”

“Is that a serious question?” Potter asked, his eyebrows raised and a look of scepticism painted on his face.

“Well,” Draco answered, “what would you suggest we do about that, then?”

The room was quiet and nobody seemed to have any suggestions.

“Veritaserum,” Granger broke the silence.

Everybody stared at her.

“And how do you suggest we get our hands on that, genius?” Pansy asked, and Granger went quiet.

“We can get it from Slughorn,” Potter said and earned sceptical glances from the entire group of students.

“What,” Draco answered, “you’re just going to see him and say ‘hey Slughorn, how about you give us some Veritaserum to support our rule breaking?”

“Of course not, you idiot,” Potter answered back. “I’m going to say that I suspect that you copied my Potions essay, and I need to find out the truth.”

Draco was affronted. “And what makes you think, he’ll buy that excuse? And give it to you, no less?”

“Because I’m the ‘ _famous Harry Potter_ ’. I bet I can make him do almost anything. Plus, he obviously doesn’t think much of you,” Potter answered with a smirk on his face.

“Oh my,” Pansy said, looking impressed. “A plan worthy of a Slytherin. I dare say, Potter.”

Potter frowned. Draco was quite certain that Potter didn’t take that as the compliment it most obviously was.

“Harry, you are absolutely insane. This is quite possibly the worst idea you have ever had, and I absolutely refuse to believe that you are serious,” Granger said, looking appalled.

Potter looked at her and said, very matter-of-factly “I think you can appreciate that this school year has started out rotten for me right from the get go.” Draco couldn’t help snickering. “And last year I was… too preoccupied to have any sort of fun.” Granger rolled her eyes. “And I think you can also appreciate that the work load we already have is very stressful to everyone who doesn’t have a super-power brain.” Granger blushed. “So I think we’re all entitled to have some fucking fun,” Potter finished.

Hermione glared at him and crossed her arms across her chest. “I will have you know that I whole-heartedly do _not_ support that idea, and I think you’re being extremely foolish.”

“I will have you know that I already know that,” He answered.

The rest of the group were watching them, bemused. Potter had stood up. Draco could not believe that Potter would have the nerve to use him as an excuse in such an unflattering manner. He also still doubted that Potter actually had the nerve to go through with the attempt. Fucking Potter with his fucking cocky ‘Saviour-of-All’-Attitude.

Potter turned to look at Finnigan. “Hey, Seamus, do you have a Sober-Up potion?” he said, and Finnigan nodded and stood up to get it from the Gryffindor boys’ dorm. When he returned, he was carrying a small phial. Potter threw his head back, emptied the phial and winced at the taste.

“Cloak?” the Weasel said, as Potter turned to leave. Draco thought it a weird thing to ask about. First of all, it was only late September and the evening temperature not all that cold. Second, Slughorn’s office was located inside the castle, as were all the other professors’. Well, except that big oaf Hagrid, but he didn’t really count as a proper professor.

Draco looked around him to see if anyone else was puzzled by the question, and luckily he didn’t seem to be the only one.

“Nah, I’m good,” Potter said and winked at the Weasel, who smiled in return. “Plus, it’s only barely nine o’clock. It’s nowhere near curfew.”

“Hey Potter,” Draco said, “Let’s make it a dare, as an opening of the game.”

Potter stopped then turned around. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about this:” Daphne interjected, “If Potter gets the Veritaserum, Draco kisses Longbottom. Ten seconds. _With_ tongue. If Potter fails, _he_ kisses Longbottom. Same conditions.”

“Why me?” Longbottom asked, quite understandably, Draco thought.

“Yeah, why him?” Potter seconded. “Why not a girl?”

Daphne looked at him and cocked her head. “Because I’d like to see two blokes snog,” she said as if it were a stupid question, which Draco absolutely did not think it was. “And because both you and Draco are hot, and so is Longbottom. If there’s going to be two guys snogging, it may as well be hot guys,” she continued as if it were obvious. “Plus, it was Draco’s suggestion, so it’s only natural that he is part of the dare.”

Draco could feel himself blush and saw both Potter and Longbottom do the same.

Potter’s eyes were darting between Draco, Longbottom and Daphne. He looked uncertain, and Draco felt the ever constant urge to provoke him.

“Scared, Potter?” he asked, smirking.

Potter’s eyes narrowed and he took on a look of determination. “You wish, Malfoy.” And that was that settled.

Potter turned around and walked out of the portrait hole. The silence in the room was striking.

“Let’s take bets,” Finnigan said, and the room came to life, betting on whether or not Potter would succeed.

The room was buzzing with anticipation, and Draco was starting to feel nervous. He was, of course, certain that Potter would fail. On the other hand there was a little voice in the back of his mind, saying that Slughorn _was_ awfully fond of Potter. Then again, incompetent as he may be, Slughorn was a professor and it would be unethical, unprofessional, dangerous and very certainly against the school rules to just hand out that sort of potion to students.

Draco did not feel comfortable, and his eyes darted towards Longbottom who just sat frozen and staring intensely into the air.

There was a 50/50 percent chance that Draco would not have to kiss Longbottom. Well, probably more like a 95/5 percent chance he wouldn’t have to, whereas Longbottom had no choice in the matter. Had Draco not been part of the dare himself, he would have found it funny that Longbottom was forced to participate in something he had had absolutely nothing to do with.

To be kissing Longbottom. Yuck. The mere thought was revolting.

All bets were taken, and the common room had fallen quiet again. Everybody sat still, not talking, waiting.

After about ten minutes the portrait hole swung open, and Potter stepped in, looking defeated.

“Do we have to follow through with the bet?” Potter said, grimacing.

Draco felt his stomach loosen and let out a sigh of relief. “Yes,” he said and felt a grin spread on his face. “Yes, we absolutely do.”

Potter’s grimace turned into a smirk. “Good,” he said and drew out a flask from his trouser pocket. “He _really_ doesn’t trust you.”

Draco felt his jaw drop, as he stared at the flask in disbelief. He looked at his classmates and thought he must look desperate. He certainly felt it. “Do I have to?” He asked.

“Yes, Potter said with a grin. “Yes, you absolutely do.”

“I hate you,” Draco said and could have punched himself for giving such a lame retort.

Potter just smirked diabolically.

“Oh, Potter,” Pansy said. “You _should_ have been a Slytherin.” She looked positively gleeful.

Potter looked uncomfortable at that remark. ‘Ha!’ Draco thought.

“Well, get on with it,” Abbott said. “Snog.” Draco could have punched her.

“Wait!” Draco exclaimed. “How do we even know it’s really Veritaserum? It could be water.”

“Well,” Potter said, “you could take a drop and I’ll ask you a question.”

Draco just looked at him incredulously. As if.

“I think Potter should take a drop and then Malfoy can ask him a question,” someone Boot said. “Potter _was_ the one to get it, after all. And Malfoy is the one doing the dare.”

Potter blanched as Draco grinned. After much talk the majority of the participants agreed that Potter should take a drop and Draco should ask a question.

“Fine, I’ll take one drop, and you can ask me something you think I’d probably lie about, okay?” Potter said.

“I suppose that will have to do.” Draco was clinging to the hope that Potter hadn’t actually got hold of the potion so he wouldn’t have to kiss Longbottom after all.

“Nothing war-related,” Potter added quickly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the stupidity of Potter’s notion that he might ask about that. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Potter eyed him suspiciously but opened the flask and let one drop fall from the pipette onto his tongue. “There we go. Ask me something.”

“All right.” If he would _have_ to snog Longbottom, Draco was _not_ going to waste this chance at humiliating Potter. He looked around the circle to gather inspiration, and his eyes came to rest on Weasley. Draco smirked and looked at Potter. “When, where and how did you last fuck the Weaselette?”

Potter blanched, and his eyes darted nervously to the Weasel, who was suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “I… That’s just completely… I don’t…” Potter looked as if he were choking. “Just before supper in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, from behind against the wall,” he blurted out. He blushed furiously and hid his face in his hands, then sat down.

Weasley was just as red in the face and trying to look like he hadn’t heard what Potter just admitted to.

“Again with the public thing, Potter. Kinky,” Draco couldn’t help remark. He knew he would have to snog Longbottom and thought it only proper that he make one last stab remark at Potter beforehand.

Potter snapped up his head and glared at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Happy now?” Potter asked. The idiot.

“Hardly!” Draco responded with poorly hidden disgust painted on his face. Not that he was actually trying to hide it.

“Well,” Blaise spoke up. “I think that definitely verifies it. Draco, Longbottom. As you were.” And he gestured towards them gracefully, grinning, and Draco’s joy of Potter’s discomfort evaporated, as he thought of his own fate.

He didn’t think it fair that the people from his own house were so eager to make him do it, and he narrowed his eyes at Blaise to show him just how much he thought of him. The brat just grinned at him. Prick.

Draco looked at Longbottom who was looking as uncomfortable as Draco felt. Neither of them moved.

“ _I’m_ not coming over,” Longbottom said. “It’s not my dare in the first place. I’m an unwilling participant.”

“Well so am I. And I’m not coming over either,” said Draco. He was absolutely not going to be the one to initiate. “It’s not like I’m enjoying the prospects.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Pansy exclaimed. “Just meet at the middle would you.”

“Pansies,” Macmillan interjected.

That was completely uncalled for, Draco thought. He knew Macmillan said it to provoke them, but under no circumstance was he going to be thought of as a pansy. So he took a deep breath and crawled to the middle of the circle, where he settled on his knees. Longbottom didn’t move. “Come on, Longbottom,” he said. “Let’s just give the perves their kicks and get on with the evening. We’re not getting out of it anyway.” Longbottom stirred and began to crawl over to meet Draco in the middle of the circle.

When Longbottom was right in front of Draco, also settled on his knees, he sat up straight and addressed the room. “I will have you all know that I do this under protest.”

“As do I,” Draco agreed.

Draco watched Longbottom shut his eyes tight and leaning in. His lips were pressed together in a fine line. Draco hadn’t planned on closing his eyes, as he really thought that was something you only do when enjoying the kiss, but suddenly it seemed like a very good idea. So he shut them tight and leaned in. Their lips met, and they both lingered there. It was supposed to last ten seconds after all.

After a while he heard Daphne’s voice. “You do realise that the kiss doesn’t count until you start using your tongues, right?”

Draco resigned and tilted his head slightly. He felt Longbottom’s tongue brush his lower lip.

Draco immediately pulled back. “What the fuck are you doing, Longbottom?”

“Well apparently we’re not getting out of this,” Longbottom said. “Let’s just get it over with.”

They both closed their eyes again and leaned in. Draco tilted his head and let his tongue touch Longbottom’s lips. He felt Longbottom tilt his head as well and opening his mouth slightly to make room for Draco’s tongue, responding to the kiss. Draco found that it wasn’t altogether horrible, as long as he imagined that it wasn’t Longbottom, he was kissing.

After ten seconds of snogging, he heard Daphne say “Time’s up,” and he quickly drew back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He hurriedly filled his glass and threw down a shot of firewhiskey. He felt both embarrassed and uncomfortable, but his class mates seemed content, and the evening continued.

*

Harry was somewhat subdued by the fact that he had just (involuntarily, mind) let his best mate know when, where and how he just fucked his sister. At least he wasn’t the one having had to snog Neville. He did feel sorry for Neville, though, as he had had no say in the matter at all and was bound to lose the dare no matter what. Still, better him than Harry, Harry thought.

After the snogging, everybody put a drop from the pipette on their tongues.

“How much is left?” Hermione asked.

Harry pulled out the flask and studied it. “Two thirds,” he said.

“He gave you that much?” Ron asked, and Harry shrugged.

“It’s just completely unethical,” Malfoy complained. “He shouldn’t be allowed to teach.”

Harry looked at Malfoy and lifted both eyebrows. “Well, he must have thought, I would need a lot with you as my potions partner.”

“Shut up,” Malfoy answered and turned his attention to his knees again.

“Okay, so, rules?” Parvati asked when they were all dosed.

“Well it kind of speaks for itself, don’t you think?” Zabini said. “One person asks another person ‘truth or dare?’, and the other person chooses if they want to tell a truth or do a dare, and the asker gives the question or sets the dare.”

“What about limitations on the dares?” Abbott asked.

“Nothing illegal,” Hermione immediately chipped in. “And nothing that could get anyone expelled.”

“And nothing incestuous,” Parvati added, no doubt wanting to avoid an intimate encounter with her sister.

“And what if you _really_ don’t want to do the dare?” Ron asked.

They were quiet for a while, thinking. Then Zabini said “You get hexed. And you can choose between boils in the arse for a week or ‘ _I had sex in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, from behind, against the wall_ ’ written on your face in neon. Also for a week.”

“Ha bloody ha,” Harry said and glared at Zabini. Malfoy, the arse, had the audacity to snicker, and Harry sent him a glare as well.

“I will make clear immediately,” Hermione said, raising her index finger, “that should anyone choose to get obscenities printed on their face, they will receive one week’s detention from me – every evening for the duration of the hex. This is a school – there are minors present.” She looked at them all sternly as several other students rolled their eyes.

After a bit of discussion back and forth, those were the rules that were agreed upon. Even the thing with the boils and the neon writing – it would be up to oneself which punishment should be received.

And so they settled down in a circle and began playing.

It began innocently enough. Seamus asked Padma if she had ever had an erotic dream about anyone in the circle (which she had), Padma dared Hannah to kiss Ernie (it was just a peck on the mouth), Hannah asked Goyle if he had ever been caught wanking by his dorm mates (which he had), and Goyle dared Parkinson to lift her blouse for five seconds.

Parkinson had dared Hermione to French kiss Zabini for ten seconds which seemed to be the allotted amount of time, and Hermione was now looking thoughtful as if calculating the pros and cons of her next move.

“Malfoy, truth or dare,” she said after having stared at him for what seemed like a very long time. It almost seemed as if she was trying to convey some secret message to him.

Malfoy looked at her, frowning curiously. “Truth,” he said slowly.

“Are you up to something?” Hermione asked.

Harry’s jaw dropped and he looked at her in disbelief. He couldn’t believe the nerve of her.

Malfoy didn’t look very surprised at the question. He rather looked like he had almost been expecting something of the sort. “Define ‘something’,” he said.

“Do you have knowledge of or are you actively or passively planning, plotting, scheming, aiding, abetting, supporting or in any way helping carry out something illegal or nefarious or something that would in some way, directly or indirectly undermine, harm or risk the safety or health – both physically and mentally – of any students, professors, staff members, family members and friends of students, muggles, magical creatures or the wizarding or muggle community in general, and/or are you planning to do so in the future?”

She looked at him intensely.

“I am not,” he answered.

Hermione looked at Harry. “There! Happy?”

Harry blushed and glared at her with his lips shut tight in a thin line.

The rest of the party were looking at the three of them bemused, when Malfoy took his turn and asked Greengrass: “Truth or dare?”

Greengrass chose dare and had to give Ron a lap dance. It was amusing watching Ron, as he was trying his hardest not to seem to be enjoying himself, his eyes darting guiltily to Hermione. They weren’t dating yet, but Harry thought that it was quite obviously in the cards. And apparently Ron didn’t want to jinx his chances with her by openly enjoying a very sensual lap dance from an admittedly very beautiful girl. Hermione didn’t seem to mind, though, and was watching with interest.

“So, Potter. Truth or dare?” Greengrass asked.

“Dare,” Harry said. He had just downed two large shots after Hermione’s ‘treason’, and the alcohol had taken the edge off his nerves. He was completely unprepared, though, for what came next.

“I dare you to snog Draco,” she said, and Harry’s jaw dropped. “For thirty seconds, with tongue.”

Harry’s jaw dropped even further, and he just stared at her.

“ _Daphne!_ ” Harry heard Malfoy say, outraged.

Harry looked over and saw Malfoy staring at Daphne accusingly.

“I most certainly will not do that,” Harry said.

“Okay then,” Harry heard Zabini say. “Would you rather like the boils or the neon writing?”

Harry snapped his mouth shut. He was seriously considering picking the boils, when Neville spoke. “Just do it, Harry. It wasn’t really that bad,” he said.

Harry gave him a look of scepticism. “I cannot believe you just said that, Neville. Did you _like_ kissing Malfoy?”

Neville blushed and looked down. The Veritaserum was forcing him to be completely honest. He looked up at Harry again and met his gaze. “I guess I did, yes.”

“Well, of course he did, you moron,” Malfoy butted in. “It _was_ _me_ , after all. I am amazing.”

Harry chose not to respond and took a look around the circle to assess his class mates.

Ron looked as if he had a hard time deciding what to think of it. Harry thought his face shifted between disgust (probably of the fact that it was Malfoy – as far as Harry knew, Ron had no problems with boys kissing boys, as long as he wasn’t one of them), pity (probably because Harry’s options were between a week of boils and a snog with his nemesis – the facial neon writing was absolutely out of the question), anger (probably over the fact that Harry was dating his sister, and she might not like the fact that Harry was kissing around with other people) and curiosity (probably because this _was_ , after all, Harry and Malfoy).

Harry was affronted that Hermione didn’t even feign pity or disgust. She just looked curious and slightly eager.

The rest of his class mates’ expressions varied between pity, anticipation, disgust and curiosity.

Harry swallowed. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll time it,” Seamus said. “That way you won’t cheat your way to a shorter kiss,”

“Whose side are you on anyway, Seamus?” Harry asked annoyed, but Seamus just shrugged and grinned.

“Well get on with it then and let’s get it over with,” Malfoy said, and Harry moved towards him. They were sitting five spaces apart with Hannah, Ernie, Michael Corner and Padma between them.

Harry crawled half the way over and stopped, waiting. “Well, are you going to meet me halfway or what?”

“Absolutely not,” Malfoy replied.

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“It’s your dare. I’m not moving one inch,” was the reply.

Harry cringed and crawled to sit in front of Malfoy, resting on his knees. Malfoy took the same position, looking uneasy. They both closed their eyes. Harry leaned in, and their lips touched. Harry’s first thought was how soft Malfoy’s lips were. He could have socked himself on the eye for that thought.

Harry tilted his head to one side, aware that they might as well get on with it as the kiss wouldn’t count before they used their tongues. Harry felt Malfoy tilt his head as well and his lips open slightly. He cautiously ran his tongue over Malfoy’s lower lip and felt Malfoy draw a breath and open up a bit further. He felt Malfoy’s tongue on his own and almost caught himself thinking that that felt _very_ nice, but managed to stop the thought. Almost.

They both were responding to the kiss, opening up further and massaging each other’s tongues more aggressively.

Harry felt Malfoy’s hands slide up his thighs to rest at his hip joints, and he felt Malfoy leaning in further, deepening the kiss. Harry would have liked to think that he didn’t reciprocate in turn, but that would have been untrue. To his own surprise, Harry found his one hand sliding around Malfoy’s waist and drawing him in further still, guiding both of them up to stand on their knees, so their bodies were pressed even further together. His other hand was resting on Malfoy’s nape and sliding into his soft, oh so very soft, hair. Malfoy’s hands had slid from Harrys thighs and up his sides onto his back, where one hand was now holding on tightly around his waist, grabbing a firm hold of the back of Harry’s shirt and pulling Harry as close as possible. Malfoy’s other hand was in Harry’s hair, and as Malfoy tugged on it lightly, Harry made a small but audible whimper of pleasure.

Had Harry paid attention, he would have heard his classmates gasp at the obvious sound of pleasure. However, Harry was oblivious to his surroundings.

The two boys were practically devouring each other, breathing hard through their noses and both making small noises of pleasure now. At one point they both broke free from the kiss to catch breath, resting their foreheads against the other’s, lips still touching. Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath in his mouth. The detachment only lasted a few second, as Harry suddenly felt Malfoy’s tongue ever so lightly touching his lower lip, and Harry took this as a cue to resume the kiss.

Harry’s arm was still around Malfoy’s waist, and he moved his other hand from Malfoy’s hair down his neck onto Malfoy’s back, drawing their bodies flush against each other, clutching Malfoy in a tight grip.

Malfoy moved his other hand to also tangle in Harry’s hair and began tugging harder, half massaging Harry’s scalp, bringing small moans of pleasure from Harry.

In the back of his mind, Harry suddenly became aware that someone was saying his name.

“Harry… _Harry_ … HARRY!” Ginny shouted, and Harry finally broke free from the kiss and looked up. “What the fuck, Harry?” she laughed.

He felt dazed and probably looked it too. Malfoy certainly did.

Harry suddenly became more aware of where he was and what he had been doing. He realised that he and Malfoy were still holding each other tightly, and he quickly let go. He stood up quickly, looking slightly panicking at Ginny. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy sit back and hide his face in his hands. Harry couldn’t blame him. He would very much like to do the same right now.

“Enjoying yourselves?” she asked, with her eyebrows raised, looking amused.

“Yes,” they said simultaneously, the Veritaserum answering for them.

A look of surprise appeared on both their faces, and Malfoy drew his knees up to his chest and propped his forehead on his knees. He then took the collar of his cashmere sweater and hid his face in it, then put both his hands on top of his head, as if protecting himself from an explosion.

Around them, their classmates were snickering. The fuckers!

That’s when Harry noticed that the majority of the people not participating in the game had come out of their respective dorms. ‘Great!’ he thought. An audience. He wondered how long they had been standing there.

“ _Ginny!_ ” he exclaimed, looking accusingly at her. “I can’t believe you would ask that. That’s just mean.” Harry thought it _very_ cruel of her to have asked such a question and would have preferred it, if instead she was a bit more jealous that she had just caught him kissing someone else. Even if it _was_ another bloke. On a dare.

Ginny just shrugged. “So…” she said, her eyebrows raised.

“That was a dare, Ginny, I swear,” Harry explained.

“I gathered as much,” she said and then continued “the others filled me in while you were going at it.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I didn’t notice.”

“That much was obvious,” Ginny said with smirk.

“I cast a Tempus Charm to count down from a minute,” Seamus said.

“A minute?” Harry said.

Malfoy lifted his head from his hands and glared accusingly at Seamus. “The dare was thirty seconds. That’s just completely unfair.”

“Yeah,” said Harry and glared at Seamus as well, placing his hands on his hips.

“Well, time was up ages ago. I even charmed the Tempus to beep, when the minute was up. You didn’t react,” Seamus continued. He then smirked. “Well, there _was_ a whole variation of reactions, but not to that, anyway,” he added.

Harry felt the heat rush to his face even further.

 “How did you get in here anyway?” Harry asked Ginny.

“You gave me the password and told me to sneak in, remember?” she responded.

Harry’s eyes as per reflex darted to Ron, who suddenly looked constipated. Harry directed his attention to Ginny. “Well this hardly qualifies as sneaking, Ginny,” Harry said.

“So very right you are, Harry,” she responded. “Though I might as well have been, counting how long it took you to notice me.” She gave him a crooked smile and raised an eyebrow.

Several of the people in the room outright laughed at that.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yeah, Harry,” Ron said, laughing. “You were _very_ preoccupied.”

Harry turned to look at him, his eyes still narrowed.

“And you admitted yourself that you enjoyed it,” Ron continued, grinning widely.

“That was the Veritaserum!” Harry pointed out.

“Exactly!” Ron said, nodding and still grinning.

Harry looked at Ron. “Ron,” he said, looking deadpan and matter-of-fact. “I’m going to fuck your sister now. Hard. In our room. And I’m _not_ putting up a silencing charm.”

Ron’s grin disappeared, and the room erupted in laughter.

Ginny was laughing as well at the look on Ron’s face as Harry took her hand and led her to his dorm.


	3. Blowing off steam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have a lot of it already written updates will be rather frequent. Can't promise it will last, though.

Chapter 3:

The weekend had passed too quickly, Draco thought. He had, miraculously, managed to get all his homework done, which might be largely due to the fact that he had stayed in his dormitory the entire Saturday and Sunday, desperately trying to avoid Potter. He had had Blaise bring up food from breakfast, lunch and supper and had made his homework sitting in the broad window sill or on his bed.

His mind kept drifting to what he mentally referred to as ‘The Kiss’ on Friday. He was more embarrassed than he could remember ever having been. First off, it had been horrible being chosen as the subject of Potter’s dare. He still could not believe Daphne. That bint! Second, it had been mortifying to realise that it _was_ a quite enjoyable kiss, which was certainly not okay considering whom it was, he was kissing. Third, it had been awful discovering that his classmates had all been very aware of the fact that both Draco and Potter seemed to be enjoying themselves a little too much. And then there was the Weaselette’s question that they had _had_ to answer honestly because of the Veritaserum. _In front of everybody_ , no less. Fucking Weaselette. And fucking Potter for giving her the password. And fucking Granger for suggesting the Veritaserum in the first place. The only good part had been when Potter had wiped the grin off Weasleys face. Heh! Although it _was_ rather awkward having to listen to Potter having _very_ loud sex for the remainder of the evening. In the end, though, Weasley’s nauseated expression was worth it. Especially since it was past curfew and Granger wouldn’t let him leave the common room. Instead she had pointed out that it was the Weasel’s own fault for laughing at Potter, and that he should know better than to provoke him.

It had been surprisingly easy avoiding Potter, even though the four boy’s dorms shared bathroom facilities. Draco suspected that Potter was trying to avoid him as well, which suited him just fine. He dreaded Monday, where he would no longer be able to avoid him, which Slughorn, the bastard, had made sure of.

Come Monday, Draco continued to avoid Potter for as long as possible. He sat at the opposite side of the classroom during defence class and kept an uncommonly low profile. He took silent enjoyment when Snape docked points from Potter on several occasions. Potter really should know better than to disagree openly with Snape by now. Halfway through class, Potter had lost his house 20 points and was just about to draw breath to most likely disagree with Snape on something else, when Brown turned around to look at Potter from her seat in front of him.

“Just shut up, would you, Harry,” she said.

“Wise girl,” Snape said. “Five points to Miss Brown.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. That had never happened before – Snape giving points to Gryffindors.

Then Snape continued. “And ten points from Miss Brown for disturbing class.” Draco smirked inwardly.

 

When lunch was over, Draco went towards the dungeon. He was stalling as much as possible, taking detours through hallways and corridors. Draco did not want to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the Potions classroom alongside Potter, so he planned on being exactly on time and not a second before.

He arrived to the classroom precisely at the same time as Slughorn, who took a moment to pull Draco aside. “Now, listen here, Mr. Malfoy: I do realise that you hold some sort of grudge against dear Mr. Potter. I have my doubts as to whether this is justified, though knowing Mr. Potter, I sincerely doubt it,” he said. “I realise that this may be a hard time for you with that unfortunate business with your father sneaking in and killing the headmaster in June, but I still expect my students to behave themselves. Your fight in class last Thursday really was extremely childish and showed great immaturity on your part, and I strongly expect you to refrain from such in the future. Now, I take no pleasure in lecturing someone from my own House, but in this case, concerning poor Mr. Potter’s well-being, I unfortunately see no choice. He is, after all, the Boy Who Lived, and we all rely on him. I trust I shall see no further childish behaviour on your part?”

Draco cringed. He was inclined to tell Slughorn a piece of his mind, but he had a feeling he would have trouble stopping if he began.

So he gritted his teeth and said “Yes, professor”.

He entered the classroom, fuming. His head twirling with nasty thoughts about Potter, the Fucking Golden Wonder Boy Who fucking Lived to Ruin Draco’s Life! Insufferable little bastard! Attention seeking little shit!

He went to sit next to Potter in the front of the class. Potter didn’t turn around and didn’t make any move to acknowledge that Draco was there. Draco didn’t either.

His fellow Slytherins had been surprisingly sympathetic about the whole ordeal with The Kiss, although there was, of course, the mandatory taunting. Pansy had remarked on Saturday that ‘ _Aw, darling, it’s perfectly understandable that you got turned on. He_ is _awfully hot,_ ’ with which Draco most certainly did not agree.

First of all, he was _so_ not turned on. It was the alcohol. Also, he was almost certain the Veritaserum had been badly brewed, and there was some sort of weird side effect. Yes. That was most definitely it: Slughorn’s infatuation with Potter had made its way into the potion, thus making Draco lose control.

Secondly, Potter was _not_ hot. Draco was hot. Potter was not.

Pansy had rolled her eyes at him and said ‘ _sure, darling_ ’ and winked at him. He had thought that was extremely rude of her, and hadn’t spoken to her the rest of the day.

Draco decided that, for now, he would just have to get through that day’s Potions lesson and then relax and not think about Potter until Thursday, when they had their next Potions lesson.

*

Harry’s weekend had not been the relaxing break of the week that he had first anticipated and expected it would be. He had been concentrating quite a lot on avoiding Malfoy and even more about not thinking about ‘The Incident’, as he had begun referring it to himself.

The thing was that the harder he concentrated on not thinking about it, the more he thought about it. Obviously.

He had asked Hermione to obliviate him, but she had told him that she ‘would absolutely not even _consider_ doing anything of the sort’ and that if she _did_ do it she ‘would have to obliviate all the 7 th years _and_ Ginny _and_ whoever she might have told _and_ whoever they might have told’. Harry had told her that he wouldn’t have a problem with that and they could just ask Ginny, who she told and so on and so forth. (Harry would have liked to think that Ginny of course wouldn’t tell a soul, but if he was completely honest with himself, he knew that she probably had.)

At that Hermione had just scoffed and told him to get over his silly wounded pride. Harry had told her that he really didn’t think that his pride had anything to do with the situation at hand, to which Hermione had said that ‘of course it did’, because ‘everybody had seen _and_ heard that both he and Malfoy were obviously enjoying it, which they had also both admitted to, and that in Harry’s mind that would obviously mean that he thought, people thought that he liked Malfoy, which in Harry’s mind was just not okay, and that, by the way, she thought that he was miffed that Ginny didn’t show any signs of jealousy rather than amusement and actually seemed more than a little turned on by it’. Hermione then added that ‘that was actually quite understandable, as it _had_ been awfully hot’.

She had then had the audacity to wink at him, and Harry had given her a glare that he would like to think indicated just how displeased he was with her not-help.

He then had told her that he didn’t need to be a figure in her erotic fantasies thank you very much and had gone to spend the rest of the weekend in their dorm.

He was greatly helped by the Marauder’s map, which would tell him whenever Malfoy would leave his dorm or go the bathroom. Malfoy, however, spent the rest of his weekend in his room, probably doing the same thing Harry did – avoiding the other.

It was actually quite ironic that Harry, after Hermione’s also rather embarrassing question to Malfoy about whether he was up to something, was now sitting on his bed staring at Malfoy’s dot. (For completely different reasons, mind.)

He had, albeit grudgingly, been forced to accept that Malfoy was perhaps not up to something after all. Which was good, obviously. It was just rather unsettling for some reason.

Monday’s Defence class had been horrible, and for some reason Snape seemed out to get him. More than usual, that is. It was safe to say that Harry by lunchtime was in a foul mood, greatly fuelled by the fact that after lunch he would be spending a double lesson Potions next to bloody Malfoy.

The only high point so far had been when Ginny had snuck her hand under the table at lunch, given his crotch a light squeeze and motioned her head towards the entrance of the Great Hall. They had hurried out, much to Ron’s chagrin, and gone directly to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, which they had found, was a great place to sneak a quickie during the day, as Moaning Myrtle mostly spent time there in the evenings and late afternoon.

They hadn’t talked at all; Ginny had just turned her back on Harry, leaned her hands on a sink and bent over. Harry had been quick to lift up her robes, pull down her pants, undo his trousers and thrust in all the way. Ginny was already wet and Harry was already rock hard, and they hadn’t needed any foreplay. It really was a quickie. A few quick, hard thrusts and Harry came inside her. He leaned against her for a moment and then tucked himself in after casting a cleaning spell on both of them.

Ginny turned around and smiled at him. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered with a lopsided grin. “Thanks, Gin.”

“You looked like you needed it.” She smiled at him fondly. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then moved towards him. She stood up close against him and rubbed her hand against his cock, as she whispered in his ear. “Are you up for round two?” She gently nibbled on his ear lobe.

Harry felt himself growing hard again. “Is there time?” he asked, his smile widening.

Ginny looked at her pocket watch. “Thirty minutes till class. You up for it?”

“Now that’s just a silly question, Ginny,” Harry answered smiling, and leaned in to kiss her.

She returned the kiss which deepened quickly and soon became very intense. Harry unfastened her robes and pulled them off. She was wearing a light T-shirt and a short skirt underneath. Ginny put her arms up, and Harry pulled off the T-shirt. She was wearing a charcoal grey bra which stood nicely against her skin. Harry unhooked the bra, and Ginny shucked it off, exposing her perky breasts.

Harry began unfastening his own robes. Ginny stood looking at him wearing nothing but her skirt. She looked very sexy. Harry had discarded his robes but halted in undressing himself further, and looked at her. She was so erotically beautiful, he thought. Ginny smiled seductively and held eye contact as she moved her hands to caress her breasts. She kneaded them slowly, and let one hand slide from the breast slowly down her belly and under the elastic band of her skirt. Harry watched her as she closed her eyes and bit her lip, continuingly kneading her breast and rubbing herself.

Harry stood watching her while her breathing became faster and shallower. He had unbuttoned his trousers and was stroking up and down his shaft, occasionally flicking his thumb over the slit, wiping off the pre come and using it for lubrication.

With great effort Harry stopped working himself and moved towards her. He bent down and sucked in the nipple of the neglected breast. Ginny hissed, and Harry let his hands slide to her back and down to her arse. He caressed her buttocks and let his fingertips brush between them, almost grazing the tight hole. Ginny came with a small cry.

She removed her hand from her pants and smiled. Harry took her hand and licked her fingers. He loved the way she tasted.

Ginny threw both arms around his neck and hoisted herself up, her thighs around Harry’s waist. He slid in easily. Needing something to lean on, Harry moved to one of the cubicles. He pushed Ginny against the door and, when he had gained leverage, started thrusting.

Even though he had already come once not fifteen minutes ago, Harry felt climax approaching fast. Ginny was clinging on to him, whimpering and moaning. Harry picked up speed and was pounding into her. He was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead.

Ginny’s head was thrown back against the cubicle door, her throat exposed. There were small beads of sweat there, and Harry leaned in and licked it. She tasted salty and sweet at the same time, and he could taste her perfume. He placed small kisses on her jaw, down her throat and below her ear, where he had found, the skin was very sensitive.

Harry was nearing climax, when Ginny leaned in and grazed his earlobe with her teeth. “Mr. Potter, you are an amazing fuck: The way you pound into me hard and fill me out with your huge cock,” she whispered.

She didn’t normally talk dirty, but Harry found he quite liked it, and he moaned loudly.

“Fuck me, Mr. Potter. Come inside me and fill up my pussy with your hot, thick sperm,” she continued. And Harry came, hard and long, filling her up.

Harry took a moment to recover and then carefully put Ginny down. “That was awesome,” he said with a sheepish smile.

She blushed a bit and said “Well, yeah, I thought I’d try something new”.

Harry cast a cleaning spell on both of them and kissed Ginny. Ginny, however, broke apart quickly. “Better get dressed, Harry. Wouldn’t want to be late for Potions again.” She winked at him.

“You coming over tonight?” Harry asked as he tucked himself in and buttoned his trousers.

“Can’t,” Ginny answered as she put on her bra. “I’m studying with Neville tonight.”

Harry looked up in surprise. “With Neville? Why? And can’t you just study in the 7th year common room?”

Ginny looked around absently. “Where’s my T-shirt?”

“Over there, by the sink,” Harry answered and pointed.

“He’s tutoring me in Herbology. I suck at it. You know that. We’re going to go to the greenhouses this evening,” Ginny said as she walked to retrieve her T-shirt and put it on.

“No, I didn’t know that. And since when is he tutoring you?” Harry asked, frowning.

Ginny pulled her T-shirt on. “Since last night. We discussed it over lunch and made arrangements. I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry answered with an annoyed tone to his voice. “I wasn’t _at_ lunch. As you will recall I had Ron bring up food to the dorm the entire weekend.” Harry didn’t know why it was making him upset. And quite frankly, he didn’t even know exactly what it was that he was upset about.

“Why are you so upset?” Ginny asked as if reading his mind. She then cocked her head and smiled. “Are you jealous?”

“What? No, absolutely not,” Harry answered. “I’m not upset. I get that Neville is the best at tutoring Herbology. I just… I don’t know. I just wish you’d told me is all. You also said you didn’t come to sleep over yesterday because you were studying.”

“Which I was,” Ginny answered. “With Neville. In the library.”

“Why the library?” Harry asked. “Why not the common room?”

“Because the library is quiet, Harry. Which I need, seeing as I completely and utterly suck at Herbology.” Ginny looked annoyed. “Honestly, Harry, you’re acting like a girl. It doesn’t suit you.”

She pulled on her robes and gave him a peck on the cheek. She started walking towards the door but turned around to look at Harry. “You don’t have to worry, Harry. You’re the only owl in my owlery.” She smiled at him and winked.

“I know. Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly and smiled back.

“See you at supper,” Ginny called as she left the bathroom.

Harry stood for a while, brooding, though he didn’t really know what he was brooding about. ‘Honestly, get a grip, man,’ he told himself and headed off to Potions.

He arrived at the dungeons a couple of minutes before the lesson began and sat down. Malfoy wasn’t there yet, which suited Harry fine. That was a few minutes less he would have to deal with him. The git.

When Malfoy did turn up and sat down at their desk, Harry didn’t acknowledge him in any way, and Malfoy took his example, sitting as far away from Harry as possible.

Today held another double session of Potions just standing next to Malfoy and preparing ingredients for the potion.

Harry would have preferred to start the brewing and just prepare the ingredients as they went along, but Malfoy insisted that they must have all the ingredients prepared first – at least as much as possible, seeing as some ingredients would have to be fresh – as that would lessen the risk of mistakes and ensure that they would be able to time the brewing according to the recipe. Malfoy also insisted that they prepare three times as much of each ingredient as was listed on the ingredient list, just in case.

Harry agreed without much fuss. He had to admit to himself, albeit grudgingly, that Malfoy really _was_ skilled at potions and that it _would_ probably be for the best to go along with whatever he thought best. Although Harry would never ever admit that to Malfoy.

Malfoy didn’t address Harry in any way for the entire class. He sometimes knocked his elbows in to Harry’s ribs and pointed at one of his needlepoints to indicate what he wanted Harry to do. Harry didn’t mind much.

All in all the Potions lesson went surprisingly well.

At supper Harry as usual sat next to Ginny. The mood between them was a bit awkward but was lightened somewhat, as Neville sat down on Ginny’s other side, and they began planning the tutoring.

Harry ate quickly and mostly in silence and retired to the common room when he had finished without waiting for Ron or Hermione.

He gave Ginny a peck on the cheek and said “Have fun at the greenhouses, you two. Ginny, you can sneak in afterwards if you want to.”

She smiled at him. “We will. Thanks, Harry. I’ll think about it, but I think I’ll just go to my own dorm after.”

Neville looked up. “See you later, Harry.”

Harry entered the common room and chose an armchair close to the fireplace. He curled up in the chair and sat staring into the fire.

The common room was empty, as most of the students were still down for supper and most likely would be for some time still.

The portrait hole opened and Ron and Hermione walked in. They walked over to Harry and sat down in the armchairs on either side of him.

He ignored them and continued to look into the fire, well aware that they were both watching him.

“So…” Ron began. “What’s with the foul mood?”

Harry tried for a light tone to his voice and hoped that he sounded surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Hermione said. “You finished your supper in complete silence in less than ten minutes and hurried off without a word. You didn’t even give Ginny a kiss goodnight. You usually always do that. Did you two fight?”

Harry continued staring at the flames. “She’s studying with Neville.”

“So?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “It’s unsettling me and I don’t know why.” He looked down at his hands.

Harry could feel Hermione’s eyes on him. “Why is it unsettling?” she asked.

“I just told you I don’t know,” he snapped.

“Is it because they made the arrangement without you present?”

Harry thought about it. “I don’t know… Yeah, I guess. Perhaps a little bit.”

“What, you don’t trust her?” Ron asked. Harry could hear the protective tone of his voice.

He turned his head to look at Ron. “Of course I do. I guess I would have just liked it if she had asked me to help her first.” Harry turned his head back to continue watching the flames.

“But Harry, Neville is the best in Hogwarts at Herbology, including the professors, save Professor Sprout obviously,” Hermione said. “It’s completely natural that Ginny would want Neville tutoring her, seeing as they are also friends.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not pretending to be reasonable here, all right? I can’t explain it. It just annoys me, ok?”

“Well, as long as you don’t go all ‘jealous-creepy-stalker-boyfriend’ on her,” Ron said.

Harry crossed his arms and turned to look at Ron again. “Why does every conversation have to end up with someone referring to me as a creepy stalker? It’s getting annoying.”

Ron threw his hands up in front of himself. “All right, I’m merely saying. As her brother, you know?”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry answered. “I trust Ginny, I’m not angry, I’m not jealous and I’m not going to start acting crazy. Happy?”

Ron didn’t answer but patted Harry on the shoulder.

They sat in silence for a while, until Hermione declared that she was going to the library. “I want to study the potion we’re brewing. There are some of the ingredients we haven’t worked with before and I would like to know exactly what they are and how they interact.”

She stood to leave. “Are you coming, Ron?”

“Why do I have to go?” Ron asked.

“Because we are partners, and I want you to know these things as well. Do you want to come along, Harry?”

“Nah, I’ll just sit and sulk by myself a bit,” Harry answered. He listened to them bickering as they left.

The common room was still empty and Harry enjoyed the silence. It was not long, however, until the portrait hole opened again. Harry looked up and saw the unwelcome sight of Draco Malfoy entering the common room.

“Oh goody,” Malfoy said. “Just when I was hoping to have some peace and quiet while everyone is still at supper.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said and once again directed his attention to the flickering fire.

Harry could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him. “Stop looking at me,” he said without turning around.

Malfoy didn’t answer and also didn’t move.

“Malfoy, I’m warning you. Quit it!” Harry said again.

Fed up with the annoyance of the Neville tutoring Ginny-thing, all the points he had lost in defence class that day, being forced to work with Malfoy in Potions and with Malfoy’s presence in general, he stood up, clenching his fists by his side.

“I said: _Stop. Fucking. Staring at me, you fucking prick_ ,” He shouted. “ _What is your problem?_ ”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and sneered. “What is my problem? My problem is that I _hate_ you, _Potter_. You’re ruining my life with your disgusting sucking up to professors, playing you little ‘I’m a hero, please worship me’-game, and with your superior attitude and with you and your little exhibitionistic Weaselette having sex _everywhere_ just waiting to get caught so she can get off on that. And to top it off, I have to put up with your less than adequate performance in potions _for a year_ and most likely be the one to drag you through it if I want to pass my own NEWTs, as _well_ as sharing the common room, where one is _supposed_ to be able to relax. And even when I finish supper early to just escape and have some _fucking_ Potter-free time, you’re _there_. There’s no escaping you. You’re fucking _everywhere_ , and it’s driving me mad. _You_ are driving me mad with your _fucking_ ever-presence. Is it too much to ask for some FUCKING. PEACE. AND QUIET?” Malfoy shouted. He looked furious.

“Is that so?” Harry asked through gritted teeth.

“That is very much so,” Malfoy answered through equally gritted teeth.

“Yeah?” Harry said. “Well what are you going to do about it? Run to daddy and have him bribe someone to get me expelled? Oh wait, you can’t, can you? Because your daddy is a murderer, isn’t he? And whatever influence he may have had, pathetic as it was, is gone. The ‘good name of Malfoy’ is gone, and you are nothing more than a sad loser taken in by the mere goodwill of people far more superior to you. You. Pathetic. Loser.”

Malfoy lunged himself at Harry and knocked him over. They tumbled to the floor together, and began punching, kicking, scratching and biting each other with vigour.

When the portrait hole opened again, they were lying on the floor, a tangle of limbs. Malfoy’s fists were in Harry’s hair as he was trying to slam Harry’s head into the floor. Harry’s fists were equally lodged in Malfoy’s hair as Harry attempted the exact same thing.

Harry was distracted when the portrait hole opened, and Malfoy seized the opportunity to slam Harry’s head as hard as he could into the floor two times. Harry saw stars and didn’t register Malfoy standing up and moving away. He _did_ register someone rushing over and urging him to stay down, which Harry did gladly.

He took a few moments to overcome the dizziness and opened his eyes, staring directly into Neville’s big, blue eyes.

“Are you all right Harry?” Neville asked, looking worried. “Do you want me to get someone? A professor? Madam Pomfrey?”

“Thanks, Neville,” Harry answered. “No, I’m good.” Harry’s head had stopped spinning, but he now had a fierce headache. He smiled at the expression on Neville’s face. “You don’t have to look so worried Neville. I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” Neville asked. “You don’t look fine.”

Harry tried to stand but was overcome by dizziness so settled on a sitting position. “I am, honestly. It’s just a couple of bruises, I imagine.”

Neville kept looking worried. “A couple of bruises? You look absolutely terrible. You should see yourself.”

“I’ll be fine Neville. Thanks, though,” Harry said. He then remembered what he had been brooding about when Malfoy had disturbed him. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Ginny right now?”

“Yeah, I am,” Neville confirmed. “I actually just wanted to see you first. It seems to bother you that I’m tutoring her.”

Harry suddenly felt very uncomfortable and imagined his looks mirrored this feeling, as Neville said “I thought so. Is it that it’s me or that it’s anybody at all? Because if you don’t want me to tutor her I won’t, you know that Harry.”

Harry met Neville’s gaze. “It’s fine Neville. Really,” he said and was surprised that he actually meant it. “I guess I was just surprised. And I got upset that I didn’t know about it and I wasn’t there when you planned it, and I guess I felt left out. So really, it’s fine.”

A look of relief passed Neville’s face, and Harry found himself smiling.

“Good,” Neville said and smiled as well. “I guess I’ll go join her in the greenhouses then, if you’re sure you don’t need any help, what with the ‘couple of bruises’.” Neville made quotation marks as he emphasised the words ‘couple of bruises’.

“I’m sure,” Harry assured him.

Neville looked doubtful. “But are you _really_ sure? Because I can go fetch Ginny for you if you want? We can do the tutoring some other time.”

“Neville, I’m sure,” Harry said. “Give her a kiss for me, though, will you?”

Neville blushed.

“Um, I didn’t mean that literally,” Harry said when he realised what he had just asked Neville to do.

Neville grinned. “Thought as much, Harry. I’ll tell her you said ‘hi’, shall I?”

“Thanks Nev’.”

Harry allowed himself to lie back down on the floor as Neville exited through the portrait hole.

He was surprised to find that he now _was_ actually okay with the whole Neville tutoring Ginny-thing. It seemed that Neville coming to talk to him had been reassuring in some way. He found himself smiling and shaking his head, as much as was possible in its current state, at his own stupidity.

Harry tried once again to stand. His body hurt and his head felt as if it was going to explode. He used an armchair for support and winced as he stood up. He felt like an old man, clasping his lower back with one hand and supporting himself on the armchair with the other.

He winced as he walked to the dormitory and cursed himself for not being better at healing charms.

When he entered the dorm he caught his reflexion in the body sized mirror on the wall, and he understood why Neville had looked so worried: His nose was broken (for the second time in less than a week) and half his face was covered in blood, his lip was split and swollen, and he had a swollen black eye to match. His neck was covered in scratch marks, and he actually had a rather extraordinary bite mark at the base of his neck. He was, indeed, a sight for sore eyes.

Right. He would just have to wait until Ron returned to the dorm and have him fetch Hermione, so she could cast the healing charms. There was no way Harry was going to let anybody else see him in this state.

*

To say that Draco was annoyed would be an understatement.

He had, of course, been in a foul mood the entire weekend due to ‘The Kiss’ on Friday. Well, actually since he had been made partner with Potter, ‘Prince of Potions’. However, since his ‘conversation’ with Slughorn today outside the Potions classroom, his mood had spiralled downward, and by suppertime he was fuming. He ate supper in silence, making sure to put on a scowl he knew would prevent unwelcome disturbances from other Slytherins. He didn’t hurry much, as he was a Malfoy, and though the name tainted, it was still a name that required tact and manners. Instead he made his helping smaller than usual, thus finishing quicker.

He noticed that Potter, as well as Draco, seemed eager to leave the Great Hall early. Draco assumed that he was headed for the Quidditch pitch as he would sometimes do, when something had upset him. (Not that Draco was in the habit of noticing Potter’s moods or actions, of course.) Shortly after, Granger pulled the Weasel up from his seat and headed for the exit. No doubt Granger was dragging him along to the library.

Draco did not say a word to his classmates as he stood up and left the Great Hall.

He headed for the common room, hoping to find it empty.

Draco spotted Potter as soon as he entered the common room. Oh goody. The last person he wanted to see at the moment. Well, most moments. But especially right now.

“Shut up,” Potter answered when Draco greeted him.

Draco really wanted to just ignore Potter and go to the sanctuary of his dormitory, which would have to settle as refuge for the evening, but he just could not stop staring at Potter. Perfect Potter who was always, just _always_ there, pestering Draco with his ever-presence.

And so, Draco remained where he stood, staring at Potter, who finally snapped. “ _What is your problem?_ ” Potter shouted.

Although Draco really _did_ need to relax in the comfort of his own mind, it was just too tempting to let all his frustrations loose. So he hissed and shouted at Potter, letting him know beyond a doubt that _he_ was the reason for _all_ of Draco’s woes. Him and his infuriating ability to just be everywhere.

And Potter mocked him. Mocked his name. Mocked his father. Called him a loser. And Draco saw red. He lunged himself at Potter, tumbling to the floor with him. They were a tangle of limbs. There were no well-aimed punches and no technique other than the need to feel Potter’s face and body on his knuckles. His skin under Draco’s fingernails. His flesh between his teeth. And it seemed that Potter felt the same way. Punch after punch and scratch after scratch found its way to Potter’s stomach, Draco’s kidneys, Potter’s nose, Draco’s cheekbone, Potter’s neck and Draco’s chin.

It was refreshing and relieving.

Draco registered the portrait hole opening, and someone entering. He didn’t turn to see who it was, like Potter did. Instead Draco took advantage of Potter’s distraction. Somehow Draco had landed on top of Potter, straddling his thighs, so Draco grabbed Potter’s hair firmly and slammed his head into the floor twice. Ha! Take that. Fucking arsehole.

Draco didn’t spare a look to see who had entered but went directly to the Slytherin boy’s dormitory and slammed the door shut.

Despite his initial intention of not fighting Potter, he had to admit that this had been an excellent way to blow off steam, and that he did, in fact, feel more relaxed.

Draco went to look at himself in the body-sized mirror hanging on the wall, and he cast healing charms on the bruises and scratches decorating his body. He was adequate at healing charms, and if cast twice on the same mark, it became nearly unnoticeable.

Draco settled himself down on the windowsill and looked out at the rain. It was the last day of September. It was already getting colder and steadily darker, and in one and a half months he would let himself begin counting down the days till the Christmas holidays when he would see his mother again. He allowed himself, when he was alone, to miss his mother.

Draco thought about his mother a lot. He usually wasn’t a ‘mummy’s boy’, but for the moment they were all each other had and he worried at her solitude. Sure, there were Order people coming and going on a weekly basis, but they were disinclined to engage in conversation with her.

The letters Draco received from her did not give the appearance of her being lonely. However, they consisted of almost the same each time, which led Draco to the conclusion that she was, indeed, very lonely. He hated that.

Fortunately the house held a garden, enlarged by an extension charm similar to the ones used on tent, and he gathered that his mother spent most of her time there, tending to the plants the muggle way or in the extensive library reading.

To his horror, Draco felt a tear leave his eye and carefully trickle down his cheek.

This would not do. He wiped the tear off his cheek, sniffed (loudly because he was alone in the dorm), and took some steadying breaths. He went to look in the mirror once more, voided his face from emotions and put on his signature sneer. He prided himself on that one. That one could hide a lot. “Pull yourself together, man,” he told himself. “You are a Malfoy. Malfoys do not cry.” He gave himself a stern look.

Draco sat himself on his bed and began writing the thirty inch essay on ‘The Great Inflation of British Economy Following the Goblin Slaughter by Wolfram Oldear in 1395’.

When his class mates finally entered the dorm after having spent the evening in the common room, Draco was already asleep.

*

Harry woke up sore. It took him a couple of moments to remember the reason – the fight with Malfoy the evening prior.

Hermione had healed the visible bruises but had refused to relieve him of the pain that was a natural consequence of a fist fight. Harry thought that to be very inconsiderate as it was Malfoy who had started it. Hermione had said that Harry was as much part in it as Malfoy and that he could have just walked away.

After Ron had fetched Hermione when they returned from the library to the common room, Harry had made the mistake of telling her _exactly_ what had happened, including the bit where Harry had mentioned Malfoy’s father. That was when she had agreed to removing the bruises but _not_ the pain.

Ron had, as the good friend that he was, asked if Harry would like him to hex Malfoy into oblivion, but Hermione had, of course, prevented it. She had reminded Ron how _he_ usually reacted at insults thrown at _his_ family.

Ron had looked at her accusingly. “It seems like you’re always taking his side lately.”

“Yeah,” Harry had agreed.

“Well,” Hermione said, “I would prefer not to have to take sides at all.”

“What, you want us to be friends with that prick?” Ron asked.

Hermione had rolled her eyes. “Merlin no,” she said. “I just thought it would be nice if you could get along. Or at least ignore each other enough to not get into fist fights. That’s the second time in less than a week, Harry.”

“Hermione, as much as I would love to ignore the bastard, or better yet not have him around at all, it’s really not possible to avoid him, seeing as I’m stuck with him in Potions. _And_ in detention every Thursday for the next three weeks to top it off,” Harry had said.

“And as I recall,” Hermione had said, “said detention is in fact due to a fist fight. Which _you_ initiated.”

“He insulted my mother,” Harry had said, trying to make Hermione see reason.

Hermione had taken a deep breath through her nose and closing her eyes as if calming herself. “My point exactly,” she had said. “In Potions you insulted him (unprovoked, I might add), he insulted you back and you flung yourself at him. How is that any different from what happened last night?”

Harry had had no argument to that so settled on an annoyed huff, crossing his arms across his chest, wincing slightly as his ribs were sore.

He had gone to bed after that, silently cursing Hermione and her righteous ways.

Oddly, despite the pain, the fight had been almost soothing to Harry’s mood, and he felt relaxed when he awoke.

He went to breakfast in a somewhat better mood that day. Furthermore, like Hermione Malfoy had Ancient Runes on Tuesdays, which meant that Harry wouldn’t have to spend every waking moment of _that_ day in Malfoy’s company.

As he entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he sought out Ginny and sat down next to her.

He smiled at her and leaned in and kissed her cheek, then placed a gentle kiss on her jawline. “I’m sorry I was a prat yesterday,” he said. He straightened his back and scanned the table in search of pumpkin juice.

Ginny leaned in and nibbled his earlobe discretely when she whispered, “You’ll make it up to me tonight”.

Harry turned his head and caught her mouth with his. “Count on it,” he said when they pulled apart.

A cough from Ron, who was sitting across from him, had him focus on his breakfast once more.

When he left the Great Hall, Harry caught himself thinking that it was odd that Malfoy hadn’t come down for breakfast yet. Not that he had been watching, obviously.

Even so, it was unusual.

*

Draco woke up early. There was a mixture of relief and tension in his body, which felt odd somehow.

He had felt immense relief in his body after the fight with Potter and had hoped that it would last, but he had woken up extremely hard which had no doubt caused the new tension. He had a feeling that had he slept another couple of minutes, he would have found relief in his sleep and woken up sticky.

Draco decided to allow himself a proper wank that morning. He was usually not one to skip breakfast, as he took pride in taking good care of himself. However, once in a while, to take care of oneself, one must succumb to other bodily needs as well. It was all about priority.

So Draco told his fellow Slytherins to go to breakfast without him as he intended to sleep in.

When he was certain there was no one left in the bathroom, he entered and turned on the shower.

He took his time undressing, savouring being completely alone, and when he had undressed completely he closed his eyes and positioned himself in the middle of the bathroom. Just because he could, as nobody was there to interrupt.

He then took one hand and gently ran his fingers down his cheek onto his jawline, down the throat and collarbone and down his torso, feeling the chest and abdominal muscles. He ran the index finger from the other hand along his lips and sucked it in. He twirled his tongue around his fingertip and grazed it lightly as he pulled the finger out.

He let his fingertips brush gently over his chin, down the throat and torso and onto his groin.

He cupped his balls and squeezed them lightly with one hand, as he ran his fingertips along his cock, from the base of the shaft to the head, with the other.

When steam floated from the shower, he stepped in and savoured the feeling of the hot water splashing over his head and body.

Draco liked his showers hot and the bathroom was soon covered in steam. He decided to leave the curtains open, still enjoying the fact that he was all alone.

As much as he needed relief, he began with washing his hair. Draco’s hair was one of the things he most prided himself of about his body, and it would not do to neglect it. So he lathered, rinsed and repeated with shampoo, lathered and rinsed with conditioner, and lathered and rinsed with hair repair (not that he needed it – that was for precautionary measures). Draco was very particular about his hair routine. His products were custom made and bought in Italy, as was the various lotions he used every day.

After finishing his hair routine, Draco poured a large droplet of body shampoo into his palm and once again let his hands roam his body, lathering it. He pinched his nipples and moaned, as there was no one there to hear him.

He suddenly felt the tingling sensation one gets when being watched, and out of the corner of his eye, he became aware of a presence, blurred by the steam in the room.

Draco didn’t need to see to know who was there. He _knew_ this particular tingling sensation. There was no doubt.

Potter. Always Potter.

Draco’s initial impulse would normally be to either stop what he was doing and leave or tell the other person to leave and then finish the job.

However, for some reason he didn’t do either. He didn’t leave. He didn’t stop. He didn’t do anything to let Potter know that Draco knew he was there.

Instead he poured another droplet of body shampoo into the palm of one hand to use as lubrication. He slid the other down to once more squeeze his balls and graze his perineum. Draco grabbed the base of his shaft with his lubricated hand and slowly slid it upwards. He let his palm run over the head and squeezed it. He knew that it would not take long, and he could already feel the pressure building in his groin. Draco ran his hand up and down his cock, rapidly increasing the speed and occasionally running his palm across the head, squeezing it lightly.

Draco was panting and moaning softly, his eyes closed, until he finally felt his balls tightening. He groaned as the warm fluid spilled over his hand.

He cleaned himself up and stepped out of the shower.

“Enjoy the show, Potter?” Draco asked as he was fastening a towel around his hips. “Who is the perve now?”

Draco registered Potter turning around and leaving the bathroom, and smirked to himself.

He wondered how long Potter had been standing there and found it very disturbing when he discovered that the thought turned him on, and he was half hard again. He ignored it, though, and, refreshed, he went down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

First period of the day was a study period, and Draco decided to sit in the common room and work on his Arithmancy essay due on Friday.

Scanning the room, Draco noticed Potter, Granger and Weasley sitting at one of the other tables, discussing and practicing the transfiguration spell to duplicate an item, they were to practice for that day’s transfigurations lesson. Granger, of course, already mastered the technique (as did Draco), but Potter and Weasley weren’t quite there yet.

They were practicing on spiders, which Draco thought a little senseless if one had trouble mastering the spell, as it was much more difficult to practice on living things. Also, the Weasel didn’t seem as if he really had his heart in duplicating the spiders and had a sort of greenish-pale complexion that clashed horribly with his hair.

Potter didn’t seem to have any problems with spiders in general but had trouble getting more than a shiver out of it and occasionally adding a leg or two to the spider he was working on.

Draco suddenly realised that he had been watching Potter for a bit longer than was acceptable and made to concentrate on his essay again.

He had trouble not peeking at the trio, though, and caught Potter’s eyes just as he managed to duplicate his spider.

Draco smirked and lifted one eyebrow as they made eye contact. Potter paled, and suddenly his spiders began duplicating again and again to four, to eight, to sixteen and so on, until the table Potter and his friends were sitting at was swarming with spiders.

Weasley quickly pushed his chair back and without a word ran to the Gryffindor dorm, looking terrified and slamming the door after him.

Potter looked utterly flustered and just stood looking at the spiders multiplying and multiplying and multiplying. There were spiders flooding the floor, and the quantity was rapidly increasing.

There was a slightly panicky feel to the common room, and looking around, Draco couldn’t help snickering as class mates either curled up in their chairs or ran to their respective dorms while trying not to step on the spiders.

Draco gracefully lifted his feet and swung them up on his chair as the spiders started multiplying is his direction.

“Harry, would you mind giving me a hand here,” Granger asked. She was, apparently, having trouble banishing all the spiders. When Potter didn’t move, she continued sternly: “Seriously Harry; get a grip, lift your wand and do it.”

Potter still stood as if frozen to the spot, his eyes flickering from the spiders, to Granger trying to banish them, to Draco who held eye contact. Draco felt the corners of his lips twitch slightly upwards, as the spiders began crawling up Potter’s robes. That seemed to snap Potter out of it, and he finally pulled himself together and began helping Granger banish the spiders that were now covering the common room floor.

Having finally banished them all, Granger turned to look at Potter with a questioning expression on her face. “So… What happened there, Harry,” she asked.

Potter, still looking flustered was blushing furiously. “Nothing, nothing. I just – uhm… That was… I didn’t – focus. Or something…”

“Always the master of articulation, aren’t you Potter?” Draco asked, smirking.

“I wasn’t speaking to you, Malfoy,” Potter snapped.

“No, you weren’t,” Draco said, still smirking. “You just like to watch, don’t you?”

Granger looked confused as Potter blushed again and turned on his heel.

“Let’s find Ron,” Potter said and went towards the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

“What was _that_ about,” Draco heard Granger ask before the door to the dorm closed behind them.

Draco snickered to himself and felt a weird sort of pride knowing that _he_ had done _that_ to Potter.

*

Harry didn’t spend long at breakfast.

He had hoped for a quick shag with Ginny before her first lesson started, but she wanted to wait till the evening. Apparently they were going to try something new tonight. Still, that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t had sex since Saturday, and he was starting to feel the pressure of it. It was amazing how quickly one got used to having sex on a regular basis, and how disturbing it could be to have that interrupted.

So Harry thought he might just have a good wank in the shower before everyone else started flooding back to the common room.

 

He had noticed that Malfoy hadn’t come down for breakfast, which was irregular. Perhaps the git was so beat up from last night that he couldn’t get out of bed. Hah! Served the prick right!

As Harry entered the common room, it seemed empty. He brought a towel and went to the bathroom to have a shower and a wank.

It was always nicer to wank during meals when there was no risk of someone walking in on you, as one didn’t have to worry about making too much noise.

When Harry entered the shower room he realised that he was not alone after all. The room was very steamy but not so much that he couldn’t see who the other occupant was and what he was doing.

Malfoy was showering, curtains not drawn, which Harry thought odd. He first noticed Malfoy’s facial expression. It looked like he was in pain. However, when Malfoy bit his lower lip and moaned, Harry suddenly realised that the expression wasn’t one of pain but of pleasure. His eyes were drawn to Malfoy’s crotch, where both his hands were occupied, and even though his glasses were rapidly fogging Harry was perfectly able to see what was going on down there.

Harry swallowed as he saw Malfoy’s hand working up and down his shaft and the other massaging his balls.

Harry was mesmerised by the sight and couldn’t will himself to look away.

Malfoy was moaning loudly and without inhibition, and to his horror Harry felt his own cock stir in his trousers, rapidly growing hard.

Harry’s trousers were uncomfortably tight now, his cock resting against the zipper. He tried adjusting himself but only managed to rub himself, thus causing friction.

He stood watching as Malfoy came. It was too steamy in the room to see it, but Harry imagined the hot fluid spill from Malfoy’s cock into his hand. Then he mentally kicked himself in the groin for imagining such a thing.

Harry watched as Malfoy washed away whatever trace there was of what had just happened. ‘You really should leave now, Harry,’ he told himself.

He watched as Malfoy poured out as dollop of delicious smelling body shampoo into his hands and began lathering himself with it. ‘You really, _really_ need to get out now, Harry,’ he told himself.

Harry watched as Malfoy rubbed his torso with both hands working the soap onto his skin and as he slid his hands up and down his thighs and calves. Harry was nailed to the spot, unable to move as he watched Malfoy’s hand reach between his legs and clean his cock, while the other hand disappeared behind his back.

Harry was horrified by his own imagination when he mentally imaged Malfoy’s hand sliding between his buttocks to wash there.

Harry desperately wanted to leave the bathroom but was still too enthralled by the image of a naked Draco Malfoy in the shower. Wanking. Touching himself. Massaging his body with body shampoo that filled the air with a delicious citrusy scent.

As Malfoy stepped out of the shower and fastened his towel around his hips, Harry told himself very sternly to ‘get a grip, turn around and get out _now_ ’.

Too late.

“Enjoy the show, Potter?” Malfoy asked.

Harry was mortified. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks. He debated with himself as to what to do. He couldn’t very well answer the question. He also couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there, as Malfoy obviously knew that he was. He realised quickly that the longer he stood there thinking about what to do, the weirder it would be.

In the end there was nothing to do but turn around and leave.

Harry entered his dorm, flushed and his heart beating so fast he could hear the pounding. He was still hard and his cock was aching to be touched. Harry stared down at his crotch. “There is no way you are getting release, you traitorous bastard,” he said out loud, directed at his cock. He would just have to wait till Ginny came over that evening.

His cock, however, seemed in no mood to deflate. It helped a bit when he thought about Hagrid and Madam Maxime having sex. Doggy Style! He added Snape to the image, which helped even further.

 

Their first period that day was a study period.

Harry had agreed with Ron and Hermione to practice the duplication spell they were supposed to master for transfiguration.

They sat themselves at one of the tables in the common room and began practicing. Hermione had brought spiders for them to practice on, much to Ron’s chagrin.

Harry complained that it was much harder to practice on living objects, but Hermione answered that the satisfaction would be so much bigger when they achieved their goal, if the challenge was harder.

Ron interjected that he couldn’t see any scenario in which he would feel satisfaction in duplicating a spider.

Ron didn’t have much luck with the spell, but Harry suspected that to be mainly because of the object.

Harry managed to add a leg or two to his spider once in a while but otherwise had little success. It wasn’t until they had been practicing for at least half an hour that he finally did it. He still had his wand lifted when he looked up with a grin and, to his horror, caught Malfoy’s eyes. Harry felt a wave of panic rush over him and suddenly registered Ron, almost skidding backwards on his chair and storming off to their dorm without a word, and Hermione standing up and waving her wand frantically.

Harry realised, rather delayed, what had happened and began assisting Hermione in banishing the spiders.

Harry was stuttering and spluttering when she asked what happened.

And of course, the rotten bastard Malfoy just had to but in.

“Always the master of articulation weren’t you, Potter?” he asked.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Malfoy,” Harry retorted.

“No, you weren’t. You just like to watch, don’t you?” Malfoy said, smirking.

Harry turned on his heel and dragged Hermione along towards the boys’ dorm, needing desperately to talk to her and Ron.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked as they entered the dorm.

Ron was sat on his bed looking slightly green.

“Are they gone?”

“All gone,” Harry answered. “Sorry about that.” He sat down on his bed, feeling very unsettled and very much not at ease.

Hermione propped her hands on her hips and looked at him. “What happened, Harry? And don’t tell me you don’t know because I really think you do.”

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“Well, you experienced the spiders,” Hermione answered, and Ron shuddered. “And then, when we had finally banished them all, Harry had a very weird interaction with Malfoy.”

“Oh?” Ron said and looked questioningly at Harry.

Harry didn’t answer but merely looked uncomfortable.

Ron looked to Hermione. “Well, what did they say?”

Hermione looked at Harry and waited for him to explain to Ron. When he didn’t she began to explain. “Well, Harry tried to stammer some sort of incoherent reason to me as to why he had become so flustered all of a sudden, and then Malfoy interrupted, and Harry snapped at him, and Malfoy then said something like ‘You just like to watch’. And Harry just grabbed me and dragged me in here.”

“Oh come on Hermione,” Ron said. “It was just Malfoy being Malfoy, right Harry?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Well. Something actually _did_ happen and…” He trailed off.

“And…” Hermione said helpfully.

“It’s really not something I wish to discuss,” Harry said.

“Well obviously it’s got you rattled,” Ron said. “What did the bastard do? Did he hex you? Or attack you again?”

“Could we just let it go?” Harry asked.

“No Harry, we can’t. Not if it interferes with your concentration on your studies, Hermione insisted.”

Realising he wouldn’t be able to worm his way out of it Harry told them what had happened in the bathroom.

“So…” Ron said. “Just to clarify: You caught Malfoy wanking. And you stayed to watch? Till ‘the end’?”

“I didn’t mean to watch, Ron. It just sort of happened.”

“How does that ‘sort of happen’?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, ok? I felt like a pervert just standing there watching, and yet I couldn’t stop. It was like I didn’t have control over my feet, and even though I kept telling them to turn around and get out, they just wouldn’t let me. Like there was glue on the floor or something.” Harry’s eyes widened. “Maybe - ,” he said, “- Maybe the floor was cursed.”

Ron and Hermione looked at him; Ron rather sceptically, and Hermione with a puzzled look on her face.

“The floor was cursed?” Ron asked, both his brows raised. “Why would the floor be cursed?”

“To keep me there, obviously,” Harry said. “Ooh,” he said, his eyes widened further, “I bet Malfoy put some sort of foot-binder spell on the floor to trap me and make me watch. I bet he orchestrated the whole thing to force me to watch and then humiliate me when he caught me. I bet he has some sort of fetish where he gets off on people watching. What a perve. I bet…”

“Wait a second,” Ron interrupted. “He caught you? He caught you watching him wank?”

Harry blushed. “Yes, and it was humiliating.”

“Did he say something?” Ron asked.

“He asked if I enjoyed the show,” Harry admitted. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“Okay, Harry,” Hermione interrupted him, “Two things: First; you ate breakfast very quickly this morning and then went straight up to the common room. He probably counted on being alone for quite some time and indulged in the solitude. Second: Say the floor _was_ cursed, which I find highly unlikely, there was nothing to stop you from closing your eyes.”

“I bet he could feel me watching and got off on it.” Harry narrowed his eyes and nodded to himself. “The creepy bastard probably cast some sort of detection spell on me so he would know it was me watching.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. “He didn’t, Harry, and you know it. And as for the public thing, it’s not really that uncommon. You of all people should know that, since you and Ginny sport that as well. And quite frequently it seems.” Ron made a choking sound.

“We most certainly do not,” Harry spluttered.

“You do, Harry. But really, all those things… I bet there’s something else that’s bothering you. Am I right?”

Harry shifted in his seat but remained silent.

“Did you get aroused? Is that it?” Hermione looked at him sympathetically.

Ron looked appalled. “Of course he didn’t, Hermione. That’s just disgusting.”

Hermione didn’t answer but continued looking at a very blushing Harry. “Well did you?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly, looking down.

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Need I remind you that you’re currently dating my sister?”

“Of course not, Ron,” Harry answered, looking up but not entirely meeting Ron’s eyes. “It’s really very unsettling. I feel horrible.”

“You should,” Ron said, indignantly.

“Shut up, Ron – you’re not helping at all,” Hermione said crossly.

Ron gestured towards Harry. “But he’s mentally cheating on my sister.”

“Oh my god,” Harry said, his eyes widening. “What if I’m gay?”

“He is not cheating on Ginny, Ron,” Hermione said and then turned to Harry. “And Harry; do you want to have sex with Malfoy?”

“Of course not, Hermione. How can you even suggest that?”

“See,” Hermione said, directed at Ron. “He doesn’t want to sleep with Malfoy and so is not mentally cheating on Ginny.”

“But what about the gay thing,” Harry persisted. “Oh God, what do I do? How do I tell Ginny?”

“ _Harry;_ I’m sure we can agree that you are panicking right now,” Hermione said, and Harry nodded. “I want you to breathe and listen to me.” Harry nodded. “You enjoy sex with Ginny, yes?” Ron spluttered. Harry nodded his head. “And I know from Ginny that you don’t have any trouble performance-wise.” Ron blushed furiously. Harry shook his head.  “Do you think about men when you fantasise?”

“ _No!_ Hermione, honestly,” Harry said. Ron stuck his fingers in his ears and closed his eyes tightly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron,” Hermione said and pulled at his arm. Ron removed his fingers from his ears but instead hid his face in his hands. “So we have established that you have a perfectly satisfying sex life, you do not want to have sex with Malfoy, and you do not have erotic fantasies about other men. I would say on the whole that firstly: No, you are not gay, and secondly: You are not cheating on your girlfriend. It’s a perfectly natural reaction getting aroused when you see someone in a sexual situation, even if it is someone from the same sex. Besides, I bet there is a bit of bisexuality in all of us. Nothing to be ashamed of. Ok?”

Harry nodded. “Ok.”

“Ron?” Hermione asked.

Ron also nodded. “Yeah, sorry mate.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said. They slapped each other awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Good, then it’s settled.” She stood up. “We have to go now or we’ll be late for class.”

Harry gathered his books and went with the others to the Transfigurations classroom, feeling relieved and much more at ease.

*

After lunch, Draco had a double Charms period, and after that a double study session. He spent it in the library with Blaise, Pansy, Vincent and Greg.

He, Pansy and Blaise were finishing his Arithmancy essay while Vince and Greg were doing interpretations on their dream diaries for Divination. Stupid useless subject.

Draco had a hard time concentrating. His mind kept leaping to thoughts of Potter. The annoying prat. Draco gritted his teeth as he tried to force his mind back to focusing on his essay. After a couple of minutes he discovered that he had been sitting with his quill pressing into the same spot on the scroll, leaving a large ink spot. Trying to vanish the spot, he accidentally vanished the entire text. Draco groaned loudly. Fucking Potter.

“Draco, darling, what is wrong with you today,” Pansy asked. “You’re gritting your teeth. It’s getting rather annoying actually. And you’re all fidgety.”

Draco looked at her condescendingly. “Malfoys do not fidget. We ‘move around’ gracefully.”

“Well, ‘fidget’, ‘move around’, whatever you call it, something is bothering you and I demand to know what it is.”

Draco looked at her, scowling and contemplating whether there was a chance she would leave him alone if he didn’t answer. Pansy held his gaze.

“I hate Potter,” he said.

Blaise’s head snapped up from the interpretation he had been working on. “Oh sweet Merlin, not this _again_ ”

Pansy hid her face in her hands and shook her head. “Oh, Draco,” she said with a sigh. “What is it now?”

Draco looked at both of them, not quite satisfied with their reactions.

“He is just everywhere. Stupid, annoying, self-righteous Potter with his little pack of stupid, annoying, self-righteous lackeys. There is no getting away from him. He is like an ever-present nit that just won’t go away no matter how much you whack at it. All the time, everywhere; at all the meals, in every fucking class, during study periods, in the library. Even in the fucking common room. There is just no getting away from him.”

“But darling,” Pansy said. “Everyone else in our year is also always there; in the common room, in class, at meals…”

“He’s even my fucking Potions partner,” Draco said as if he hadn’t heard Pansy. “Fucking Potter, ‘Prince of Potions’.” He scowled.

“Draco, this is really getting old,” Blaise said, rubbing his temples. “I would appreciate it if you would not begin obsessing about Potter again.”

Draco frowned and looked at Blaise. “I am not obsessing. And what do you mean ‘obsessing _again_ ’? I dare say I have _never_ been obsessed with Potter.”

At this Greg also raised his head. “What about last year?”

“What _about_ last year?” Draco asked.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “Last year you were paranoid. You thought you saw Potter everywhere.”

“I _did_ see Potter everywhere,” Draco said. “He was following me.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You were certainly keeping close enough track of _his_ whereabouts.”

“I _had_ to,” Draco said. “I needed to know where he was so I could be someplace else.”

Pansy sighed and Blaise rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together in front of his face, resting on his mouth and chin.

Pansy sighed. “Draco, darling, face it; you have been obsessed with Potter since 1st year.”

“That is a load of rubbish, Pansy,” he said.

“It really isn’t,” Blaise said. “You always position yourself so you can see him at mealtimes, you always pay attention to where he is and what he is doing, and I bet that you could even tell me where he is right now.”

“I beg to differ,” Draco said. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked away from the others.

“He watches you too, you know,” Pansy said after a while.

“That’s because he has got this stupid idea into his stupid head that I am up to something,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “If anybody is obsessed, it’s most certainly him – not me.”

“Yes,” Blaise said, “but last Friday Granger asked you if you were, which you denied, and that was under the influence of Veritaserum. So he would have to believe that.”

“And it really sounded like Granger only asked to settle an ongoing argument with Potter,” Pansy added.

“I don’t want to talk about last Friday,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

The other four snickered.

“Why not?” Pansy asked, widening her eyes and looking innocent.

“Indeed, why not?” Blaise added unhelpfully. “Potter really got hot over the summer. It’s perfectly natural that you should find kissing him arousing.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Shut up,” he said. “I was _not_ aroused.”

“Right,” Blaise said, raising an eyebrow.

Vince turned his attention from his homework and looked at Blaise. “Are _you_ turned on by Potter?”

Blaise looked at him, now raising both eyebrows. “So?”

“Well, he’s a boy,” Vincent said.

“I don’t gender-distinguish,” Blaise answered. “Hot is hot.”

“But -,” Vince continued. “You would take it up the arse?”

“I hear it’s quite satisfying,” Blaise answered. “I really don’t see the big issue.”

Vince wrinkled his nose. “But how about blow jobs? Would you really put Potter’s dick in your mouth?”

“Hey,” Draco snapped. “This conversation is getting completely out of hand. Since when did this become about Potter’s cock?”

“No need to get jealous, Draco,” Blaise smirked. “You can have him. I’d much rather do his girlfriend.” Draco spluttered.

“Ok, firstly: I am _not_ jealous, and secondly: As flattered as I am that you would disregard your own interest in Potter for my sake, I’m really not interested,” Draco stated in a hushed voice. “And as for the girlfriend; as kinky as she may be, she is still a Weasley, and I would never touch a Weasley.” He made a theatrical shudder. “Plus, I have the impression that they are both quite satisfied with their current sex life. Besides, Potter is straight. As am I, by the way. And seriously, could we just stay off the topics of last Friday, Potter’s sex life and Potter’s cock?”

“I wonder if it’s big,” Pansy said and caused Blaise to snicker.

“I bet it is,” Blaise said. “And thick. The way he can make that Weasley girl scream and beg. He must be really good in bed.”

Draco snapped. He banged his fist on the table. “STOP TALKING ABOUT POTTER’S COCK,” he shouted, startling the students at the surrounding tables. “I AM NOT _INTERESTED_ IN POTTER’S COCK. I DO NOT _WANT_ TO IMAGINE WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE AND I MOST CERTAINLY DO _NOT_ WANT TO IMAGINE WHETHER HE IS GOOD BED OR NOT.” He had completely forgotten where he was and that there were other students scattered around in the library. That is, until he heard a loud thump behind him. He looked back and saw a petrified Potter standing with his arms stretched out and a bunch of books lying at his feet. Draco paled, his eyes opening wide in horror. Potter looked terrified and was nearly beet red in the face, his eyes also wide open, and he was staring at Draco. Draco couldn’t look away. He noticed the Weasel and Granger standing on either side of Potter. Weasley’s mouth was open, and Granger was covering her mouth with one hand.

It felt as if the moment went on forever, until Potter turned abruptly and stalked towards the entrance, leaving the books on the floor. After picking up the books, the weasel and Granger turned around and followed him.

Draco turned in his seat. Pansy, Blaise, Vince and Greg were sitting with their mouths open, looking positively gleeful. Draco closed his eyes and slammed his head on the table with a loud groan.

He heard the rest of the occupants at his table erupt with laughter and wondered where madam Pince was when you needed her.

*

Harry stalked out of the library and went directly to the Gryffindor dorm. He was quickly joined by Ron and Hermione. He sat down on his bed and both Ron and Hermione sat down on Ron’s bed. No one spoke. They just looked at one another – baffled, uneasy.

After a while, Hermione spoke: “So… Uhm… That was…”

“Weird? Uncomfortable? Creepy?” Ron said.

“I certainly feel very uncomfortable right now,” Harry said.

There were yet another couple of minutes of awkward silence.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything, you know,” Hermione said.

“I know,” Harry said. He fidgeted with his robes.

“But why would he be talking about Harry’s cock? It doesn’t make sense. And after the whole wanking incident. It’s odd,” Ron stated.

“Agreed,” Harry said.

“Well, it sounded like it wasn’t actually Malfoy talking about your penis to begin with, Harry. He actually said that he _didn’t_ want to neither hear nor think about it.”

“And the fact that it was the other four Slytherins at the table having a conversation about my private parts is supposed to comfort me how?”

Hermione shifted in her seat. “I don’t know.”

“Right,” Harry said.

“Maybe he told them about the wanking thing and conversation evolved from there,” Ron suggested.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Harry said.

Hermione looked at him questioningly. “Why wouldn’t he do that? I should imagine he would be revelling in the opportunity of letting everybody know you’re a peeping Tom.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry said indignantly. “And he wouldn’t do it because it involves his penis as well. And while the other Slytherins most likely will have no problem whatsoever about him getting off like that, there are a lot of other people who would and would think he was gross. He can’t risk that. He may pretend not to give a rat’s arse about what other people think but he is all about appearance. It would have been a different matter if it was the other way around and he had caught me doing it. Then you can be sure the whole school would know by now. No, he is just going to enjoy rattling me by himself. He might tell Zabini, but he won’t tell if Malfoy doesn’t want him to.”

“He should be trying to bribe you not to tell everybody,” Ron said.

“He knows I won’t tell,” Harry said.

Ron frowned. “How does he know that?” His eyes widened. “Oh God you didn’t talk to him after and promised not to, did you? Had some sort of weird post-wanking conversation? And why don’t you tell, actually? You should. Let’s announce it at supper.”

“Because Hermione is right, Ron. I would be labelled a peeping Tom. The peeping Tom with the exhibitionistic girlfriend. Hogwarts’ very own Mr. and Miss Deviant.” Harry scowled.

Ron seemed to choose to ignore the comments on his sister.

Harry sighed and looked down at his hands.

Hermione smiled sympathetically at him. “Look, let’s just go down for supper and try to forget this happened, ok?” She said

Harry looked up and smiled. “Yes. I think that would be good.”

Despite a big effort to forget what had happened, Harry found himself feeling very subdued at supper. He was looking down, trying not to look at the Slytherin table but finding it hard. Involuntary, his eyes would dart up from time to time and immediately land on Malfoy, who was looking as subdued as Harry felt.

A couple of times their eyes would dart up at the same time and meet. They would both immediately look down again, once more focusing on the food on their plates.

After some time, in which Harry hadn’t managed to eat much of his helping, Ginny leaned over. She slid her hand from his knee up his thigh to rest in his groin. Her lips grazed his earlobe as she whispered. “I want you to fuck me.” She flicked her tongue out and licked the skin below his ear. “I want you to fuck me hard until you come inside me.” She sucked in his earlobe and grazed it with her teeth.

Harry’s breathing got heavier. He turned his head to look at her. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

Ginny looked down at his crotch and Harry followed her gaze. His trousers were tenting visibly, leaving no doubt as to what was going on down there.

“Shit. I can’t get up like this,” Harry said.

“Oh, come on Harry, everybody knows what we’re going to do anyway when we leave together without any of the others.”

“I don’t care. I’m not getting up like this, Ginny.”

“Oh all right,” Ginny said. She grabbed a jug of pumpkin juice and changed it to ice cold water. She then emptied the jug into Harry’s lap. Harry yelped and jumped backwards, drawing attention of a fair part of the Gryffindor table and some from the other house tables.

“ _Ginny_ ,” he said, looking at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, yes,” Harry answered, “but people are definitely going to deduce why you did it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s too late to think about that now.” She pointed her wand at his crotch, and Harry automatically covered it with both hands. “Move your hands, Harry,” she said. “I’m only going to dry your trousers.”

Harry moved his hands and felt the water evaporate from his trousers.

They both stood, and Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand. She pulled him along out of the Great Hall by the elbow, while whispering to him in a seductive voice the things she wanted him to do to her.

Harry immediately forgot about the cold water and he felt his cock stir again. As they hurried out of the Great Hall, Harry was oblivious to the pair of grey eyes following him out.

“My room?” Harry asked.

“Can’t wait,” Ginny said.

They were on the third floor, where most of the classrooms were deserted and found an empty, dusty classroom and went in, kissing and groping.

“You should know,” Harry panted, “That I – ah. I’ve been. Very – ah. Excited. All day. Might not – oh fuck – last very long.”

“Good thing you’re a healthy teenage boy then,” Ginny answered as she pulled at his T-shirt.

Harry raised his arms and Ginny pulled it over his head and tossed it on the floor.

Ginny was wearing a buttoned blouse, and Harry’s hands were shaking as he tried to undo the small buttons, while sucking her neck. In the end he gave up and tore the blouse open, causing the buttons to fly everywhere. Ginny laughed.

Harry slid the blouse down over Ginny’s shoulders. He grabbed her bra and tugged down on it, exposing Ginny’s pert breasts. As Harry latched on to a nipple on one breast, kneading the other, Ginny unhooked her bra and shook it off.

She rested both hands in his hair and pulled lightly, pressing her breast further into his mouth and urging him to suck on it harder. Ginny moaned and Harry let go of her breast. He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her down to lie on her back on a desk. He lifted her thighs and edged her further up on the desk, then climbed on top of her and positioned himself between her legs.

He placed open mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her throat, as they ground against each other, both still dressed below the waist.

In a matter of minutes, Harry felt the orgasm wash over him and he came in his trousers. He rolled off Ginny and lay next to her on his back.

After a short while Ginny turned to her side and rested her head in the crook of her elbow. She leaned in so her lips touched Harry’s ear and whispered to him as she ran her fingers down his torso. She rested her hand on the top button of his trousers.

“Now that the pressure is off, I want you to take me. And while you do it I will whisper dirty, dirty things to you as you claim me.”

Harry’s cock was responding to Ginny’s words, her lips on his ear and her hand slowly traveling across his abdomen and downwards, and he closed his eyes.

He was not used to Ginny talking during sex other than various appreciative sounds. He found that he enjoyed most of the dirty talking, and Ginny was very skilled.

She climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and licked and nibbled at his collarbone. She licked down his chest and flicked a nipple with her tongue, pinching the other between her thumb and index finger.

She climbed off the desk, spread his legs and positioned herself between them.

She licked down the line of hair on his stomach leading down under his trousers. When she reached the top of his waistband, she stood up straight and unbuttoned them.

Harry could feel his cock straining against the fabric and felt the relief as Ginny opened them.

She walked to stand by his head and bent down to his ear, while she grazed his cock with her fingertips through the thin fabric of his boxers.

She leaned in and whispered. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel your big, throbbing cock fill me up.”

Harry’s eyes were closed. “Yes,” he panted.

“Take your trousers and boxers off,” Ginny demanded, and Harry quickly did as told. Ginny pulled off her skirt and knickers and dropped them on the floor.

She took hold of his cock and started gently stroking up and down. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut.

Ginny climbed onto the desk again, once more straddling Harry’s thighs.

“Open your eyes,” she said, and Harry did so. “I want you to watch your cock sliding in to my wet, tight pussy.”

She slowly lowered herself onto Harry. He felt the tight wetness of her caress his cock and had a hard time keeping his eyes open. He grabbed her hips and squeezed.

Ginny arched her back, throwing her head back, her long coppery hair flowing down her back.

“Now watch me, Harry,” she said as she let a hand slide down her cheek, and letting her middle and index finger touch her lower lip. She flicked out her tongue and licked them. She let both hands travel down from her jaw down her throat along her collar bone and down her chest. She let one hand rest at the breast, massaging it, and the other go down further through the sparse soft curls where she began rubbing her clit with two fingers. As she did so, she started rocking back and forth, riding Harry, who held on to her hips even tighter. He felt certain Ginny was going to bruise tomorrow but he knew that she enjoyed the slight pain.

“Oh Merlin, fuck me. You fill me up so good,” she moaned. “You’re so big. Oh God, oh Merlin.”

Harry was panting and moaning and thrusting into her, meeting her pace.

Ginny looked down at him and stopped her rocking. Her eyes were piercing when she removed his hands from her hips and forcefully placed them over his head. She held on tightly to his wrists and leaned down so her cheek touched his.

“I’ve been a very bad girl, Mr. Potter,” she purred.

“You have?” he asked, breathing heavily. “How so?”

“I’ve been having naughty, dirty thoughts about you, Mr. Potter”

“Oh?”

“Yes, ‘oh’.”

“Would you care to – ah - elaborate? Ms. Weasley?”

Ginny straightened herself up again and began riding Harry again, slowly. She didn’t let go of his wrists but positioned one of his hands on her breast, which he immediately started massaging, squeezing the nipple between two fingers.

Ginny pulled his other hand to her mouth and sucked in his index and middle finger, twirling her tongue around them. She moved his hand down her chin to rest around her throat.

“I have been thinking about you in my bed at night, Mr. Potter. About your hands on me. Your fingers in me. Closing my lips around your huge, delicious cock.”

“Oh God,” Harry moaned as Ginny paused. “More!”

“More what, Mr. Potter?” she asked with feigned innocence and batting her eyelashes at him.

“Tell me more,” he said. “Tell me what you have been thinking.”

Ginny continued rocking her hips back and forth slowly, still holding on to his wrists. “I think about you touching my breasts. Sucking my nipples and twirling your tongue around them. I think about feeling your cock pulsing inside me as you come hard.”

Harry moaned.

“I think about your hands in my hair, pulling it hard and forcing my head backwards as I ride you,” she continued. “And I think about your hands on my buttocks, parting them slightly and grazing between them.”

Ginny let go of his hands and closed her eyes as she leaned back, resting her palms behind her on the desk. Her back was arching backwards gracefully. She threw her head back, exposing her throat where Harry’s hand was still resting.

“Tighter,” she said, and he held on just a little tighter, not wanting to hurt her.

Harry was still amazed at some of the things that would turn her on.

Ginny whimpered. Harry’s eyes wandered over her body and he suddenly caught sight of movement behind her.

‘Not again,’ he thought as he saw Malfoy standing there, resting in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

Their eyes locked. Malfoy looked slightly amused and cocked an eyebrow as if challenging Harry.

Harry was surprised to discover that he found it alarmingly arousing knowing that Malfoy was watching.

He considered whether to do the appropriate and rational thing and stop what they were doing and get angry with Malfoy, or to do the very irrational and inappropriate opposite and just continue fucking Ginny.

He made a rash decision and raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, silently accepting his unspoken challenge.

“Look at me, Ms. Weasley,” Harry said as he held eye contact with Malfoy.

He let go of her throat and breast and moved his hands down along her side to rest on her hip joints.

He held her firm in place, as she straightened up and looked at him.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” she said.

“Tell me what you do, when you think about all the things you want me to do to you.”

“I touch myself,” she said.

“Where?”

Ginny moved her hands over her body. She let one hand rest on a breast and began massaging it. “Here,” she said.

“Where else, Ms. Weasley?”

She moved the other hand further down and began rubbing her clit. “Here,” she said.

“You _have_ been a naughty girl,” he said as he slid his hands around her and placed his hands on her buttocks. He spread them and grazed between them with his fingertips, brushing the tight entrance.

“Yes,” Ginny whimpered and pressed back. Harry could feel the hole on the tip of his middle finger but didn’t push further.

He let go of her buttocks and slid his hands up her back. “Close your eyes,” he said, and she obliged. He slid both his hands into her hair and yanked hard, pulling her head backwards.

She let go a sound of pleasure.

“I think you need to learn to behave yourself, Ms. Weasley,” Harry said.

“Yes, Mr. Potter.”

Harry sat up, pressing their bodies together, still holding on firmly to her hair.

He managed to get up on his knees, sitting back on his heels, so that Ginny was sitting in his lap, straddling him. He placed a hand on the small of her back and pulled as he got up on his knees and leaned forward, pushing her onto her back on the desk.

Ginny’s eyes were still closed and her lips parted.

Her legs were bent and he positioned himself between them.

He looked up towards the door and found Malfoy still standing there, resting his shoulder against the door frame. His eyebrow was no longer raised and he no longer looked amused. His eyes met Harry’s and again they held eye contact.

Harry was very well aware that their eye contact lasted much longer than what was socially acceptable while having sex with someone else. He was also very well aware that it wasn’t really socially acceptable at all to hold eye contact with one person while fucking another. Especially when said other had no idea that there was somebody else in the room to begin with.

Harry knew that he would regret the whole thing when it was done and too late, but the part of his body that was in charge at the moment chose to push that thought aside for the moment.

He looked down at Ginny who was writhing beneath him.

He grabbed her wrists tightly and moved her hands up above her head, holding them in place as she had done to him earlier.

“Fuck me, Harry,” she said.

“You need to be quiet, Ms. Weasley,” Harry said.

Ginny was squirming beneath him. “No, I want you to fuck me. Now.”

“I believe I told you to be quiet, Ms. Weasley. You need to be taught to control yourself.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Are you going to teach me?”

Harry leaned down and nibbled her collarbone. He ran his tongue from the crook of her neck to the soft spot behind her ear and sucked on her earlobe. Ginny drew a sharp breath. Harry bit down and pulled at the lobe with his teeth. Ginny’s mouth opened further and she let out a moan.

“I might,” Harry answered, placing small kisses along her jaw. “But for now, I am going to fuck you very, very hard Ms. Weasley. I will fuck you like the dirty, naughty girl you are, until you promise to behave yourself.”

“Yes,” she breathed and threw her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles.

And Harry began thrusting. He pounded into her, deeper and harder than he ever had before, and she was whimpering and moaning so loudly it could almost be classified as wailing.

Suddenly, Harry stilled. Ginny’s eyes flew open, and she looked at him almost panicky.

“Move,” she said and wiggled her hips, trying to make him move again.

“Excuse me?” Harry said.

Ginny looked at him with raw passion written on her face. “Please. Please move, Mr. Potter.” She closed her eyes once again.

“I don’t know, Ms. Weasley,” Harry said. He was beginning to enjoy the power he held over her. “Have you learned to behave yourself?”

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes I have.”

Harry looked up and once again met Malfoy’s sharp gaze for a few seconds before he bit down hard on the soft of Ginny’s shoulders and slammed into her, upping the pace of his thrusts to a high speed.

And almost immediately Ginny came with a loud cry. Harry felt her tightening around his cock. She was shaking and holding her breath.

He thrust into her hard a few more times before he came inside her. The warm liquid pulsed into her with incredible force again and again, and he groaned into the crook of her neck.

Harry vaguely registered movement at the door but he didn’t look. He just lay on top of Ginny, panting.

When he eventually looked over, Malfoy had disappeared. Harry was very grateful for this. He wouldn’t have known how to react if he hadn’t.

He rolled off Ginny, and they lay on their backs next to each other, panting and glistening with sweat. Harry’s hair was sticking to his forehead, and he swiped it away with his hand.

He noticed his hand was trembling, and he held it out in front of him in wonder.

“I’m shaking,” he said in wonder.

Ginny turned her head towards him and grinned at him. “Wow,” she said and laughed. “That was fucking amazing.”

“That it was,” Harry said and grinned. He sat up. “Merlin I’m sore,” he said, clutching his abs.

Ginny sat up as well and winced. “Me too.” Then she gave him a lopsided grin. “Well, it _was_ quite a ride. There’s bound to be some soreness.”

Harry laughed and winced.

They both swung their legs over the desk and jumped to the floor.

“Are your legs shaking as bad as mine?” Ginny asked?

“They certainly are very shaky,” Harry answered.

They carefully started getting dressed, wincing once in a while at the exertions of their muscles as they pulled on their clothes.

When they were both fully dressed, Harry went over to Ginny and held her in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry I took charge,” he said, burying his nose in her hair.

“I loved it,” she said, and Harry smiled into her hair. “You were good at it. Reminded me a little of Snape with all the ‘You need to be quiet, Ms. Weasley’ and ‘You need to be taught to control yourself’.”

Harry stiffened. “Snape?” he said, feeling not a little bit horrified. “I most certainly do not.”

“You do,” Ginny answered. “It’s ok. It was hot.” She looked up at him.

“You have a thing for Snape?” Harry asked incredulously.

Ginny snickered. “It’s not that I want to sleep with him or anything – don’t worry. I guess I just find authority appealing.”

“I don’t know which is more unsettling, Ginny; that you find Snape appealing or that I remind you of him,” Harry said.

Ginny snickered again.

Harry ran a hand through her hair and held her chin between his thumb and index finger.

“You are one kinky little fucker, aren’t you” he said fondly and placed a kiss on her nose.

“And you adore me for it,” she said, smiling.

“I really do,” Harry said. He smiled at her, kissed the top of her head and hugged her. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the tower.”

“I can’t believe it’s nearly curfew already,” Ginny said as they walked towards Gryffindor tower. They walked slowly, trying to spare their sore muscles.

When they reached the tower Harry was greeted by the portrait of The Fat Lady. “Oh, dear boy, it is so good to see you. I really miss all of you lot.” Harry just smiled at her.

Harry pulled Ginny close and gave her a lingering good night kiss. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

Ginny grinned at him. “Sleep tight.”

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Harry grinned back. He couldn’t help chuckling to himself as he walked to the 7th year common room.

In the back of his mind was nagging the fact that he had just got off, knowing that someone – that _Malfoy_ – had been watching. And he had not only got off. He had got off harder and more forcefully than he ever had before.

He tried to tell himself that it was because of the dirty talking, but deep down he knew that it was also the fact that someone had been watching – more particularly that _Malfoy_ had been watching.

Harry was also feeling guilty due to the fact that he hadn’t made Ginny aware that someone else was in the room with them. He knew that he had reacted far from what was morally and ethically acceptable.

He knew those things and if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, he also knew that it was partly those things that had made him come harder than ever before.

He chose to ignore that voice in the back of his mind. He almost succeeded.

*

Draco was beyond embarrassed when he sat down for supper, vividly remembering what had happened in the library a mere hour ago.

He looked down, trying to focus on his food and not look towards the Gryffindor table, involuntarily seeking out one Gryffindor in particular. However, the more he tried not to look, the more difficult it was.

Draco could easily tell that Potter was also trying to avoid looking at the Slytherin table.

Draco quickly scanned the Gryffindor table to see who was surrounding Potter and to try to assess whether they knew about the unfortunate incident.

Potter was sitting with Granger and the Weasel across from him and the Weaselette next to him. Longbottom was sitting next to the Weaselette. On Potter’s other side was Finnigan and across from him, Thomas sat. It didn’t seem as if any of them knew – apart from Weasley and Granger, that is. And if they did, none of them let on. Which they most likely would have if they _did_ know.

Potter was most likely as embarrassed as Draco, especially considering the wanking-episode that same morning.

The whole situation was very uncomfortable. Even though it wasn’t Draco who initiated the subject of Potter’s prick, it was certainly him who had attracted attention to it. The whole fucking library’s attention. The scolding he had had from Madam Pince when she finally showed up. She really was enthusiastic about the library guidelines.

And it was only yesterday that Potter had walked in on him wanking. What must he be thinking? - Not that Draco cared, obviously.

Most uncomfortable were the moments when he was unable to stop his eyes from wandering to the Gryffindor table, and he caught Potter’s eyes.

Draco was tempted to just leave his supper and escape to the common room.

He didn’t, however, as he knew the value of a good meal and its effects on a person’s general wellbeing. So he persisted and slowly ate his helping of roast beef, a baked potato and string beans.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter and the Weasley girl leave the Great Hall in a rush. No mystery as to what they were up to. Draco mentally rolled his eyes. Those two were at it like rabbits.

Knowing that Potter was well out of the Great Hall and very unlikely to return, he sat up straighter and finished his meal in relative comfort.

Pansy and Blaise were still mocking him and snickering. It really was unfair as they were the ones who had begun the whole ‘Potter’s cock debate’.

He understood their teasing – he would expect no less and would, were the roles reverse, obviously do the same, but that did not make it any less of a nuisance.

That was why, when Draco had finished, he did not wait for them to join him back to the common room. Instead he thought it safer to wander the corridors for a while. He really wasn’t in the mood to risk being confronted by Potter’s faithful friends in the common room.

He had been wandering the corridors aimlessly and found himself in a deserted one on the third floor, as he heard someone talking. One of the doors was ajar and there was light streaming in the hallway. He slowly, cautiously, moved closer.

He positioned himself outside the door out of view but close enough to hear clearly.

“ _I’ve been a very bad girl, Mr. Potter,_ ” a voice purred quietly.

‘Merlin, you have got to be kidding me,’ Draco thought. Was it really his lot in life to walk in on Potter having sex?

Draco ordinarily had no problem listening to or witnessing other people having sex, but did it have to be Potter? Every. Fucking. Time? This just proved the point he was trying to make in the library about Potter’s ever-presence.

“ _I’ve been having naughty, dirty thoughts about you, Mr. Potter_ ,” the voice continued.

Draco decided that it was most likely the Weaselette.

He stayed put outside the door, debating with himself how he should react to this. He knew he really ought to just walk away. Not only because it was the morally correct thing to do, but for his own general state of mind afterwards.

On the other hand, he was very curious as to how Potter and the Weaselette would progress their little game.

“ _I have been thinking about you in my bed at night, Mr. Potter_ ,” she continued.

In the end, he chose to stay.

Now came the decision as to whether to make his presence known or not. That decision was not as hard. He knew that staying hidden and listening to them getting it on would make him feel like a perverted voyeur. On the other hand, his curiosity was growing, and he really didn’t feel like blatantly making his presence known.

“ _I think about you touching my breasts. Sucking my nipples and twirling your tongue around them._ ”

He decided that it would be acceptable for him to position himself where there was the possibility of Potter or the Weaselette noticing him, but not saying anything unless confronted directly.

He positioned himself in the doorway, crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe. Potter was lying on a desk, and the Weasley girl was riding him with her back to Draco. The Weaselette leaned back, and he saw that Potter was caressing her throat with one hand. The Weaselette asked him to squeeze tighter. Draco couldn’t judge whether Potter acquiesced but thought that he probably didn’t. That sort of thing didn’t seem like Potter’s style – not that Draco had any thoughts in general about Potter’s preferences.

Potters eyes wandered over the Weaselette’s body and came to rest on Draco.

Draco wondered how Potter would react; if he would throw the Weaselette off him as he had done on the train? If he would get embarrassed? If he would get angry? Panic? Maybe even attack?

Draco cocked an eyebrow and held eye contact, waiting for Potter to make the next move.

Draco could easily tell that Potter was surprised and trying to work out what to do.

In the end, Potter did the unexpected and raised an eyebrow at Draco.

“Look at me, Ms. Weasley,” Potter said, still looking at Draco.

Draco had _not_ seen _that_ coming. He was intrigued. And really, there was no backing out now. He had to stay. Not because he wanted to, obviously. Because he didn’t.

He had to, because otherwise Potter would have won the dare.

Potter directed his attention back to the Weaselette.

And where it had seemed as if the Weaselette was in charge of their game when Draco had been standing outside the door, it was certainly Potter who was taking control now.

Draco watched as Potter grabbed She-Weasel’s arse cheeks and let his fingers slide between them.

“I think you need to behave yourself, Ms. Weasley,” Potter said.

He watched Potter flip the two of them over in a swift movement, so Potter was lying on top of the Weaselette.

Potter then lifted his head and looked at Draco. And Draco couldn’t look away. He also couldn’t will himself to make a mocking gesture of any kind. Even a lifted eyebrow or a smirk was beyond his ability. The only thing he _could_ do was meet Potter’s gaze.

Draco found the whole spectacle disturbingly erotic, and to his horror he felt himself growing hard.

And when Potter stated that Weasley needed to be taught to control herself and then licked her neck and bit her ear, Draco was hard as rock.

“I will fuck you like the dirty, naughty girl you are, until you learn to behave yourself,” Potter said.

Draco’s cock was begging to be freed of his trousers, to be touched and squeezed and stroked, but there was absolutely no way Draco was going to pleasure himself in the same room as Potter and the Weaselette having sex. He would have to wait till he got back to the dorm.

So he bit his cheek and stayed where he was as Potter started thrusting hard.

The Weasley girl was screaming with pleasure and Potter was panting and biting his lower lip. Even in the dimly lit room Draco could see little beads of sweat on Potter’s forehead, making his hair stick to it.

Potter suddenly stopped moving. Draco thought it looked odd. He wondered if he had come. It was a strange sort of anticlimactic feeling, if this was how Potter looked like as he came. Draco would have at least expected some sort of sound or movement.

“Move,” he heard the Weaselette say with a desperate tone to her voice.

And Draco knew that Potter had not come. He was doing what he had told her he would: Fuck her until she learned how to behave herself.

“Excuse me?” Potter said.

“Please. Please move, Mr. Potter,” the She-Weasel answered.

“I don’t know, Ms. Weasley,” Potter said. “Have you learned how to behave yourself?”

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes I have.”

Potter looked up and met Draco’s gaze again. Their eye contact lasted only a short while this time, for which Draco was grateful. He felt ready to burst and was painfully aware that having eye contact with Potter wasn’t diminishing that fact. Rather the opposite, actually, though Draco decided to push that thought aside.

Potter bit down hard on the Weaselette’s shoulder, holding on to her as he began pounding into her again.

It took only a short while and then the Weaselette came. After another few deep thrusts, Potter did as well.

Draco watched till Potter’s orgasm subsided. Then he left the room, deciding that this would be the prudent time to do so.

On his way back to the 7th year common room, his trousers pressed at his cock with each step, and he eventually had to make a detour to a bathroom on the fourth floor. No one was there and he hurried in, slamming the door to the cubicle and unzipping his trousers. He immediately pulled down on his boxers and took hold of his cock.

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut as he envisioned what he had just witnessed.

Once he started stroking, it didn’t take long. He told himself that it was because the Weaselette was actually quite attractive apart from the red hair and the freckles. She had a nice frame; a narrow waist, a firm arse and perky breasts.

Still, it was the image of Potter’s eyes piercing his that pushed him over the edge, making him pulse into his hand.

He cast a cleaning charm on himself and stood up.

When he had adjusted his clothes and general appearance enough so that it didn’t look like he had just wanked, he went to the common room.

Draco considered if he should go to bed and have another wank, imagining something more acceptable this time, but decided that, considering the early hour, it would not do that Potter should come back to find him not present. That would give a frightfully wrong impression and could lead Potter to the misconception that Draco was actually affected by what had happened. Which, of course, he wasn’t.

So he sat down in the only available arm chair which was sadly positioned very close to the entrance to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory. Still, he wasn’t comfortable sharing a sofa with anybody at the moment, having to make body contact, so he chose the lesser of two evils.

He sat staring at the fire when he heard the portrait hole swing open.

Though Draco did not look to see who entered, he knew that it was Potter. He could feel his presence as he walked past the back of Draco’s chair towards the Gryffindor dorm.

“Enjoy the show, Malfoy?” Potter asked in a low voice as he walked by.

The irony was not lost on Draco.

“Pervert,” he answered quietly.

“Likewise,” Potter said as he entered his dorm and closed the door.

When Draco was lying in his bed that night, stroking himself again, he tried desperately not to think about Potter’s piercing green eyes, Potter’s hands taking hold of slender wrists, Potter’s teeth sinking into pale skin and Potter’s cock thrusting again and again.

In the end, though, he gave in, promising himself that that would never happen Again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much explicit sex in this chapter - hope you enjoy it even so. Again - it's a slow build to the Drarry, but I promise: they will get there!

Harry woke up early, once again feeling satisfied, however sore.

He stretched and smiled, still sleepy.

As he slowly awoke, his smile faltered, as he gradually remembered what had happened the previous night.

After a while, he lay completely still, his eyes wide open, horrified.

How could he? How could he have been so stupid? How could he have thought that Malfoy watching him and Ginny having sex was hot? How could he have allowed it to turn him on the way it had?

At first, Harry desperately tried to convince himself that it was just a horrible nightmare – that he hadn’t had the most amazing sex of his life largely due to his archenemy watching him going at it.

When that didn’t work, Harry desperately tried to believe that Malfoy had cast some sort of curse on him. He knew, though, that that really wasn’t the case – that he could not blame this entirely on Malfoy, and Harry felt sick to his stomach knowing that he _had_ enjoyed it. That it _had_ turned him on beyond measure. That it was _still_ turning him on just thinking about it.

Harry had grown hard, and he was disgusted with himself.

What also bothered Harry was the fact that Malfoy was probably feeling fine. After all, Malfoy hadn’t been the one who had blatantly exposed his sex life. _Knowingly_. And got off on it.

Sure, Malfoy had watched, but that wasn’t nearly as bad. Firstly because Harry could have well chosen to get angry with Malfoy instead. Shout at him. Kick him out. Beat him up. And secondly because Malfoy hadn’t got off on it.

Malfoy might even be gloating with the fact that he had something on Harry. Had even _more_ on Harry.

Perhaps he already told the other Slytherins. Of course he did. He must have. Maybe he told the other houses as well. Oh, it _would_ be like him to do something like that. And Harry had been asleep when his dorm mates had gone to bed, so he didn’t even know if _they_ knew something.

Harry was beginning to panic. He would be the laughing stock of the school. And Ginny would be so angry. Most likely she’d dump him.

When Harry’s roommates started waking, Harry carefully scrutinised their faces to assess whether or not they knew something.

When he had looked suspiciously at Neville for a while, Neville frowned and asked: “Harry is there something wrong?”

“I don’t know, Neville. Is there?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Well, you’ve been staring at all of us all morning,” Ron said. “You look like you think _we’re_ up to something now. You’re not going paranoid are you?”

“Of course not,” Harry answered, trying to look convincing.

“Then what’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry said a little too quickly.

“Then why do you look like you think we’re up to something?” Neville asked.

“Yeah,” Seamus joined in. “You’re not going to go all ‘Malfoy’ on us are you?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Who said anything about Malfoy,” he asked, this time _way_ too quickly. “I don’t care about Malfoy. I actually couldn’t care less about him. I’m _certainly_ not stalking him. I don’t even know where he is right now, and I also don’t care,” he said very quickly.

The other four boys stared at him and Harry looked from one to the other.

“No one said you did, Harry,” Ron said carefully, frowning. “Is there something you need to talk about?”

“Absolutely not,” Harry answered. Then he plastered on a fake smile that most likely convinced no one. “I’m just hungry, I guess. Oh hey, speaking of; look at the time, better go have breakfast before we’re late for class,” he then said without actually looking at the time, and turned and rushed off.

The other four boys stood looking at him as he left.

“That was certainly odd,” Dean said.

“Do you reckon he’s ill?” Seamus asked.

“Don’t know,” said Ron.

“Maybe we should keep an eye on him,” Neville suggested.

Dean and Seamus nodded in agreement, but Ron turned toward them; “He had a bit of a rough morning yesterday. And afternoon for that matter. He’s probably just still affected by that.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, and Neville and Seamus also looked curiously at Ron.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Ron answered, not wanting to betray his friend.

The others shrugged and they all went to join Harry for breakfast.

*

Draco woke up with an immense feeling of satisfaction streaming through his body.

Unlike Harry, Draco remembered last night’s debaucheries immediately, and shame and regret seeped through him.

He was not ashamed that he had found the whole spectacle erotic; it was, after all two attractive people having sex, and very enthusiastically at that, both vocally and actively. Who wouldn’t be turned on? It was the fact that it was Potter who was the main reason for his arousal that was cause for concern. It would be little better, were it the Weasley girl’s words, sounds and movements that had aroused him. Still; having to choose between being turned on by Potter or the Weaselette, he would no doubt choose the Weaselette, even though she _was_ a Weasley. At least _she_ was a girl. And at least _she_ wasn’t Draco’s archenemy.

Draco’s eyes popped wide open. ‘That must be it,’ he thought. It was the fact that it was his archenemy he had observed that had somehow proven erotic and a turn-on beyond measure. Yes. That was it. Definitely!

Those muggle mind healers would have a field day with him.

Still, having found the reason for his reaction didn’t make it any less disturbing. Or any less wrong. Just plain wrong.

Draco lay still on his back in his bed for a long time, pondering, as his dorm mates began stirring, getting up and dressed and ready for breakfast.

When they were ready Greg and Vince both looked uncertainly at Draco who did not appear to have any immediate plans to get up and go to breakfast.

Theo left the dorm with some sort of grunt and Greg and Vince looked after him longingly.

When Draco still did not make to get up, Blaise took pity on them. “Just go along now, you two. It’s all right.” He made a dismissive wave at them, and they left the dorm to go to breakfast.

When the door closed, Blaise went over and stood next to Draco’s bed. He looked down at him. Draco was lying flat on his back with his arms down his sides.

When Blaise had stood a while looking at Draco with his eyes narrowed suspiciously, Draco succumbed and turned his head to look back at Blaise. “What?” Draco said.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, please.” Blaise rolled his eyes. “You weren’t down for breakfast yesterday either. You’re not developing some sort of eating disorder, are you?”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. After all, that was what Slytherins did when expressing their disbelief or scorn regarding ridiculous questions or statements.

“What, some sort of eating disorder that involves skipping breakfast but otherwise eating healthily?”

“Well, then what’s bothering you?”

Draco didn’t answer.

“Draco, I know you have your little ideas with the whole ‘I must not confide in my friends as they are sure to use it against me at some point’-thing,” Blaise said, “- but I really, truly care about you, and I consider myself your friend. I know Pansy and I teased you yesterday with the Potter’s Penis-thing, but you know it’s only because we love you. You would do the same. And I am also fairly certain that, if I told you something in confidence, you wouldn’t use it to your own advantage in the future.” Blaise placed his hands on his hips. “At least not if it was something serious and truly important,” he added.

Draco sat up and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t go to breakfast yesterday because I needed to wank. Properly. Potter caught me.”

“So?” Blaise said. “It’s a perfectly natural thing to do. Unless Potter is a freak, I’m sure he does it too.”

“Potter _is_ a freak,” Draco stated, and Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well, I am sure freaks have physical needs as well,” Blaise said.

“But then there was the whole penis-conversation in the library…”

“Ah, yes, that was… unfortunate. But that could hardly be blamed on you. He must realise that,” Blaise said and then added as an afterthought: “But considering he saw you wanking that very morning, I agree it probably wasn’t the best thing that could have happened.”

“He didn’t _see_ me wanking,” Draco said. “He _watched_ me.”

“Oh?” Blaise said. “That’s certainly… creepy…”

“I knew he was there,” Draco continued.

“And you didn’t… think to stop?” Blaise said, frowning.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Draco said.

“Yes well, still, I would say it’s Potter who is the deviant. He is, after all, the one who stayed to watch.”

Considering last night’s events, somehow that didn’t comfort Draco one bit. He squirmed and didn’t answer.

Blaise eyed him again. “Is there more?”

Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times.

He drew a breath and said: “I was trying to avoid the common room last night, so I took a detour, wandering the corridors. I ended up on the third floor.”

“So?”

“I caught Potter and the Weaselette going at it in an empty classroom.”

Blaise nodded. “And?”

Draco chewed his lip, still looking down on his hands. “I stayed and watched.”

Blaise looked as if he wasn’t quite sure exactly what to say. “Well,” he began. “How was the… ‘nature’ of the… watching?”

Draco rubbed his face with his palms and closed his eyes. “I stood in the doorframe. Potter caught me looking. We held eye contact. He continued fucking the she-Weasel. I stayed to watch.” Draco then added: “The end,” hoping to be able to finish the embarrassing narrative.

Blaise raised both eyebrows. “No, not ‘the end’. What do you mean, he caught you looking? What did he do? Why did he continue?” Blaise’s eyes suddenly widened drastically. “Oh no, Draco, you didn’t curse him to, did you?”

“ _No_ , of course not,” Draco answered. “They were going at it on a desk, and the Weasley girl was riding him, and she had her back to me, and he saw me standing there.”

“By the door,” Blaise stated.

“Yes, by the door,” Draco answered.

Blaise sat down on the bed across from Draco’s. “Then what happened?”

“Well, we made eye contact, and I was certain he was going to flip, but then he just raised an eyebrow and continued going at it. And it was really very disturbing. We made eye contact a few more times after that and he just kept on going. And they were talking dirty. And he was all _‘You have been a naughty girl, Ms. Weasley,’_ and _‘I think you need to be taught how to behave yourself.’_ It was very disconcerting,” Draco said.

Blaise’s jaw had dropped. “Potter _said_ that? _Potter_ said _that_?”

“Yes, Blaise, Potter said that. And a lot of other things. And he was yanking her hair and pinning her down. And she was calling him Mr. Potter.”

“Wow,” Blaise said. “I did not think he had that in him.”

“Apparently he does, and I was there to witness it.”

Blaise’s surprised look changed to a positively gleeful one and then into a smirk. “You watched Potter having kinky sex.” He started snickering. “And you didn’t walk away.”

Draco rolled his eyes at him.

“Did you stay for the grand finale,” Blaise asked curiously.

“Yes,” Draco admitted. Again he opened his mouth a couple of times as if to say something.

“What?” Blaise asked.

“We made eye contact just before he came.”

Blaise’s jaw dropped again. “So he looked at you… - and came?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it exactly like that,” Draco said. “He looked me in the eyes, bit the Weasley girl in the shoulder and seconds later she came, and then him right after that.”

“Oh Merlin,” Blaise said. “You really remember a lot of details.”

Draco spluttered. “I do not.”

“You do too,” Blaise said with a way too smug grin. “Ooh, I bet you were turned on. I bet you wanked picturing it.”

Draco’s flush revealed him.

“Just to clarify: Surely not _during_?” Blaise asked.

“Of course not you pig,” Draco answered, wrinkling his nose and finally looking Blaise in the eyes.

“I bet you didn’t even make it back to the common room, did you?” Blaise asked, snickering, and Draco blushed. “So where did you do it?”

Draco sighed. “In a bathroom on the fourth floor,” he said, once again looking down at his hands.

“Well, all right, so… I can see why you would be feeling rather… unsettled about the whole… thing,” Blaise said. “I’m guessing your skipping breakfast again has to do with a rather understandable wish to avoid Potter?”

Draco nodded.

“I can accept that excuse,” Blaise stated.

“Why, that is very good of you, Blaise,” Draco answered sarcastically. “It doesn’t make me feel better about it though. One should not be getting off on watching one’s nemesis fucking. It’s just not normal.”

Draco looked down again and wringed his hands.

Blaise went over and sat next to Draco, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“Well, I just have to say,” Blaise said, “I think Potter is the deviant in _that_ story as well. I mean, he continued even though he knew you were there.”

Draco smiled at Blaise. “So Potter’s the deviant in the wanking business because he stayed and watched, and he’s the deviant in the sex incident because he knew I was watching and didn’t stop?”

“Exactly,” Blaise said and squeezed Draco reassuringly. “With the wanking you were too caught up in the moment and during the Potter-Weasley sex you were too shocked to move by the fact that he has kinky sex.

Draco grinned. “You truly are a friend, Blaise.”

“I know,” Blaise answered. “I still think you should come down for breakfast, though. You can shower later.”

Draco nodded. “I _am_ a bit hungry.” He got up and got dressed, and the both made for the door.

“I’m still going to tease you about it, though. Maybe make some subtle or not-so-subtle remarks of some sort,” Blaise said on their way out of the dorm.

Draco laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

“Do you think Potter told anyone,” Blaise asked on their way down.

“Absolutely not,” Draco answered.

“You sound very certain.”

“I am.”

“And why is that?”

“Because all Gryffindors are prudes,” Draco answered.

“I do believe we have just spent a good part of the morning establishing that certainly not all Gryffindors are prudes,” Blaise grinned.

“Perhaps not,” Draco said.” But the Weasel most certainly is. And Potter would never admit to him that he got off on me watching him and the Weasel’s sister fucking. Especially because he didn’t let the Weaselette know that I was there. And knowing Weasley, he would most likely confront his sister about it, and she would find out that I was there and Potter didn’t tell her. He won’t risk that,”

“That kinky bastard. Oh I can just imagine that conversation,” Blaise said. “’ _Hey Ron, by the way, I had a staring contest with Malfoy yesterday, while I was fucking your sister and talking dirty to her and dominating her. Also, I didn’t let her know that Malfoy was watching her come, so be a mate and don’t tell her, would you?’_ ” Blaise said, trying to imitate Potter’s voice and way of speech.

Draco laughed and then turned serious. “He might have told Granger, though. Or do so later on.”

“Heh,” Blaise said. “I can imagine that conversation too.” “ _’Hermione, something happened. Do you think I should be concerned that I enjoyed looking Malfoy in the eyes while I had kinky sex with the Weaselette?’_ ” Blaise imitated again. “ _’Oh, I don’t know, sweet Harry. How do you_ feel _about it?’_ ” he then answered himself in a high pitch voice.

Draco laughed again. “He probably wouldn’t call her Weaselette, though.”

“Probably not,” Blaise agreed. “But seriously Draco, I wouldn’t worry about it. Even if he does tell Granger, she won’t tell Weasley. For the same reasons you just gave.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“I can’t believe Potter let you watch him fucking Weasley’s little sister. And didn’t even tell her or at least warn her. That bloke is kinkier than I would have imagined.”

“Indeed,” Draco agreed.

As they walked on in silence, Draco mentally scolded himself for the erection that was currently straining shamefully against the fabric of his boxers. He scolded himself even further as he had to admit that it was still the image of Potter’s Emerald green eyes piercing his, just before his teeth sunk in to the Weaselette’s shoulder, which had his cock throbbing with unreleased tension.

Thank goodness for school robes.

When they entered the Great Hall, Draco per habit scanned the Gryffindor table and unconsciously sought out the Raven coloured bird’s nest.

As he sat down at the Slytherin table, his eyes caught Potter’s. He quickly looked down, not wanting to be reminded of the direct cause of his arousal.

They spent the rest of the day successfully avoiding each other.

Come evening, dreading the day to come, where he would be forced to endure both Potions _and_ detention alongside Potter, he decided with the help from Blaise, to do the right thing and deal with the situation and Potter the Slytherin way; snide remarks and subtle mocking. There was no way Draco was going to crawl into a corner and hide, acting like a pathetic, fucking Hufflepuff and not taking advantage of the opportunity to embarrass Potter. He would just have to not push his luck, so Potter wouldn’t tip over the edge and do something foolish.

*

Thursday brought on double Potions – a class that Harry had always hated and now, if possible, hated even more, as he had now no way of avoiding Malfoy.

Harry entered the class room and sat down at their usual desk in the front.

Malfoy was already sitting at the desk, leaning back with his legs stretched out in front of him under the desk and staring straight ahead with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” Malfoy said.

Harry cringed and looked around. No one seemed to have noticed the odd greeting. “Let’s just… not talk about that. Ever.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Potter,” Malfoy said calmly. “I certainly wouldn’t want to go against your wishes. Who knows what might happen to me.”

Malfoy was still staring straight ahead, but Harry could easily see the smirk on his face.

And for whatever reason, once again, Harry didn’t think.

“Indeed. You might need to be taught a lesson,” he said, also looking straight ahead. He regretted it instantly, but it was too late.

Harry had to hand it to him; Malfoy very nearly successfully disguised his surprise at Harry’s unexpected words. The only things that gave him away, from what Harry could gather out of the corner of his eye, were a brief tensing in his posture and an almost invisible quirk up of the corner of his lip.

Harry was blushing and was grateful for the dim lighting in the dungeons.

They spent the better part of both sessions chopping, crushing, soaking and burning ingredients. Again.

Harry thought it dreadfully tiresome work but had, albeit grudgingly, accepted that he would be better off just doing what Malfoy told him to do.

It didn’t help the situation that Malfoy had some sort of Hermione-gene and made him read the instructions for each ingredient several times, before he was allowed to so much as touch them.

Occasionally Malfoy would make a snide remark, very obviously referring to what had happened the night before.

Harry would say _“Pass me the lavender”_. Malfoy would respond with _“My, my, bossy aren’t we?”_

Malfoy would say _“Pass me the knife”_. Harry would pass the knife. Malfoy would say _“What, you’re not going to make me say please?”_

Harry would say _“Just cut it out, Malfoy, would you?”_ Malfoy would say _“Are you going to make me? Mr. Potter?”_

Harry would snap and say _“Just shut the fuck up, Malfoy”_. And Malfoy would say _“Was that an order, Mr. Potter?”_

Their exchanges weren’t overly loud but also not silent enough that no one would hear.

Harry knew that none of what was being said was particularly suspicious at all, and would likely just be attributed to Malfoy being Malfoy, except with the oddity of Malfoy addressing him as Mr. Potter.

Still, it was unnerving.

What was even more unnerving was what happened at the end of the lessons when they had carefully put away the ingredients and were all spilling out the door of the Potions classroom.

Harry had caught up with Ron and Hermione and they were pushing past Malfoy and Zabini.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” Zabini said as the trio walked past.

Harry blanched and turned around. His eyes were wide open. He looked from Zabini to Malfoy to Zabini, who were both watching him innocently.

Ron frowned. “Mr. Potter?” he said. “Why are you calling him Mr. Potter?”

“Should I tell him? Mr. Potter?” Malfoy asked.

Harry swallowed. “No,” he said quietly.

Both Malfoy and Zabini smirked. “Was that an order or a request?” Malfoy asked.

Both Ron and Hermione were frowning.

“What’s going on Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, what’s going on Potter?” Zabini asked sweetly, cocking his head.

Harry was desperate to get out of the situation and through the Charms lessons so he could go hide out in the common room. No, not the common room. The dorm. Fucking inter-house-unity.

Four sets of eyes were looking at him. Two sets curious and puzzled and two sets mocking and challenging.

And Harry was not one to step down from a challenge – especially one that involved Malfoy. So he lifted his chin. “It was an order, Malfoy. You should obey it.”

Both Malfoy’s and Zabini’s jaws dropped. After a few seconds, Zabini started roaring with laughter. Malfoy just looked flabbergasted.

“You never cease to amaze, Potter,” Zabini said, still laughing.

Harry turned on his heels and stalked down the corridor with Ron and Hermione after him.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Harry said, shaking his head and feigning obliviousness.

The Charms lessons were theoretical lessons on the theories of the difference in casting by a right-handed and a left-handed witch or wizard. Surprise; there was no difference.

Harry looked over at Ron who was dozing off.

He was disturbed about the whole Malfoy thing and confused about his own reactions. Harry knew that he wasn’t exactly known for thinking before doing, and he desperately needed someone to tell him that his reactions were simply due to that and not some sort of creepy, subconscious underlying, abnormal behavioural trait.

Harry pulled out a spare bit of parchment.

“I need to tell you something,” he wrote on the note. He transfigured small wings on it, and it fluttered through the air to the desk next to him where Hermione was sitting.

He watched through the corner of his eye as Hermione read the note and watched her scribble a response, which she sent back to him.

“I had a feeling you might,” Hermione’s note said.

*

From the corner of _his_ eye, Draco watched Potter send a note to Granger, and her writing a response, and he cursed his own assuredness that Potter was sure not to tell anyone what had happened. In the end, it turned out, Draco _had_ pushed his luck.

*

After Charms had ended, Hermione told Ron that he had been studying very hard and deserved a break from the books, while Harry definitely needed to concentrate more on his studies. Ron immediately jumped at the chance to have an afternoon away from homework and started a game of Wizards’ Chess with Seamus, who was no match for Ron but good practice anyway.

Hermione dragged Harry along to the girls’ dorm. In the Gryffindor tower the boys hadn’t been able to enter the girls’ dormitories, but in their new accommodations, they were. Harry didn’t know whether the professors had simply forgotten or whether it was some sort of 7th year perk.

There were three beds in the room, which was very tidy and had a not-so-subtle scent of lotions and flowery perfume.

Hermione led him to the bed at the far corner of the wall, where the air was fresher and less scented, and they sat down on it across from each other, both with their legs crossed.

“So...” Hermione began. “What’s up with you?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“All right,” Hermione said. “I’m guessing this has to do with Malfoy, correct?”

Harry nodded.

Hermione waited a while to give Harry the opportunity to elaborate.

When he didn’t, she said: “I’m also guessing that this is somehow related to the bathroom business on Tuesday, am I right?”

Harry nodded again but otherwise didn’t answer.

“Right,” Hermione said. “Harry, this would be a lot easier if you would just tell me yourself.”

He looked up at her, and she smiled at him reassuringly.

“Something else happened on Tuesday,” he said.

“Okay. What was it?”

“I…” Harry began. “You know when Ginny and I left the Great Hall after supper?”

“Yes?”

“Well, uhm… We were going to… You know…”

“Have sex? Yes, Harry, I know. Everybody knows,” Hermione said.

Harry blushed.

“We went to the third floor and found a classroom. And before you say anything; we were going to go to my room, but Ginny couldn’t – we couldn’t wait, and the corridor was deserted, and the classroom clearly hadn’t been used for ages… So we decided to do it there and…”

“And…?” Hermione said.

“Um, well… Ginny wanted – we wanted to try this new thing, where we… You know – _say_ things,” Harry managed to say.

“You talked dirty,” Hermione stated.

“Yes,” Harry answered, feeling very uncomfortable. “And… Ginny was sort of controlling it, and she was on top of me on a desk, and I sort of looked over her shoulder and then I saw Malfoy standing there – in the door frame. Watching.”

“I see,” Hermione said. “So you had another fight?”

“Not… exactly,” Harry admitted.

“Then what?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brows.

Harry blushed furiously. “We made eye contact. Malfoy and I. And it was like he was challenging me, and I really don’t know what I was thinking – I just continued, you know – um – getting on with business, and…”

Hermione was frowning.

“So…” she said.

Harry continued. He really had not wanted to give a complete descriptive summary of it, but found that he couldn’t stop. “Yeah, and I sort of just took charge, and Ginny was calling me Mr. Potter, and I was calling her Ms. Weasley, and… It was just… It was really, really… naughty.” Harry was beet red and beyond embarrassed but rambled on. “And… I was completely aware that Malfoy was there. The whole time. And we made eye contact a few more times.” He looked at Hermione with pleading eyes. “I’m really quite upset, Hermione. What should I do?”

Hermione was sitting with her mouth slightly open. She closed it then opened it again. “I…” She paused. “I actually don’t know what to say, Harry.”

“Please, Hermione” He pleaded. “Say _anything_ ”

“Okay… Do you know how Ginny feels about it? I mean, what did she say when you discovered he was there?”

Harry bit his lower lip and, if possible, turned even redder. He looked at Hermione almost apologetically.

She frowned and looked at him suspiciously. “Because you _did_ let her know that Malfoy was there, didn’t you?”

Harry avoided eye contact with her. He had started chewing his thumb nail.

Hermione stared at him incredulously. “You didn’t? You _knew_ that Malfoy was in the room, watching the two of you having sex, you decided to give him a show, and you didn’t let Ginny _know_? Harry, how _could_ you?”

Harry buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know, Hermione, I really don’t. I don’t know what to do.”

Hermione sighed and moved on the bed to sit next to him. She put an arm around his shoulders. “Firstly, and most importantly: Whatever you do, don’t tell Ron.”

Harry gave a small chuckle. “That one I figured out myself.”

“Good. Now Harry, I honestly don’t know what to say about the rest of it. Let’s try to look at this from the beginning, shall we?”

Harry nodded. He let his hands drop to his lap where he began fidgeting with his robe.

“Okay,” Hermione continued. “The first significant altercation with Malfoy this school year was on the Hogwarts express, where Malfoy sees you and Ginny going at it. He has an opportunity to humiliate you and takes it. The next one is that time before Potions class, where he sees you having sex _again_ and chooses to humiliate you in class again. That day is also the day you had that fight in Potions. The day after, you have a chance to humiliate him by winning the dare, and making him kiss Neville. After that you have to kiss each other and both get equally caught up in it and more so than any other couple kissing that night, I might add. That causes humiliation for both of you. Monday night you have another fight, which doesn’t exactly cause humiliation for either of you but stills adds tension to your strained relationship. The next morning there’s the bathroom business, which mostly humiliates you. In addition he rattles you enough to make you flood the common room with spiders. Then comes the library incident, where I would say you are both equally humiliated. And yes Harry, I know it was your bits that were the subject of discussion, but the rest of the library heard Malfoy shouting about his lack of interest in them. I’m sure he found that quite humiliating. And lastly comes the sex thing where you catch him watching and yet continue without letting your girlfriend know.”

“Thank you, Hermione, for that very detailed recap of my Malfoy-altercations,” Harry said. “I really don’t see how that is helpful, though.”

“You know, I believe it actually is,” Hermione said. “You will notice that all these incidents have led to the humiliation of one or both of you.”

“That, I had noticed,” Harry said. “Mainly me.”

“And two of the incidents before this one involved you having sex with Ginny, and another one him catching you watching him… pleasuring himself.”

“And?” Harry didn’t know what she was getting at but wished that she would hurry up.

“And obviously you had some sort of need to prove yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you caught him watching, and you could have reacted by freaking out or getting angry or something. Instead you made it so that _he_ was the one watching _you_ and thus making up for the bathroom incident. Then there was the whole dirty-talking thing and you dominating Ginny. That showed you in control. You may have gotten off on it, but that was probably just a bonus. I think you wanted to show him that you’re the one in charge. Like some sort of cave man-need to prove yourself.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t think I need to prove myself to Malfoy that way,” he said.

Hermione smiled at him. “Well, it’s the only thing I can come up with, so you will have to take it or leave it.”

Harry sighed. “But he has obviously told Zabini,” he said. “I honestly didn’t think he was going to tell anyone, seeing as he was the one doing the watching.”

“That’s most likely the reason he hasn’t told anybody else,” Hermione reasoned. “He knows you have something on each other. Zabini can know and they can mock you for it and tease you. Still, Malfoy can’t tell anybody else, because they will definitely think, he’s the pervert. He also knows you won’t tell people because Ginny and, even worse, Ron would find out. You just need to not let it get to you and continue doing what you did today.”

“What, order him around? Call him Mr. Malfoy? Tell him to behave him himself or I’ll teach him?”

Hermione blushed. “You actually said that to Ginny?”

Harry’s blush answered for him.

“And here I was, thinking Ginny was the kinky one,” Hermione said, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. “But seriously Harry, I’m not telling you to boss him around or give him orders or anything. I’m just saying you should give as good as you get. You left him speechless today. He was surprised. Continue doing that and eventually he will get tired of it.”

Harry gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Hermione. I think I’ll try that.”

“Feeling a little better,” she asked?

“A bit,” Harry answered.

“Good.” Hermione checked the time. “We’d better get down for supper or you’ll miss it.”

Harry looked at her questioningly.

“You know,” she said. “Detention. At eight.”

Harry groaned. He had momentarily forgotten.

He and Hermione went to get Ron, and they all went down for supper.

Harry was feeling mildly better but was now dreading what the evening had to offer.

*

Eight o’clock found Draco entering the dungeons, ready to do detention.

He found Potter already there, sitting at their desk. Draco sat down at another desk and didn’t acknowledge Potter’s presence.

They sat in silence until Professor Slughorn joined them.

“Good evening, boys,” he said jovially.

“Good evening, professor,” they both said.

“Didn’t get into any more fights, I hope?” Slughorn didn’t wait for them to answer but continued on to give them their assignment for the evening. “You will be collecting fern spores this evening for you and your class mates’ Anti-inhibitions Potion. You will find them a couple hundred yards into the Forbidden Forest. Two pints will do.”

Draco felt himself blanch.

“The Forbidden Forest?” He asked. “You’re sending us hundreds of yards into the Forbidden Forest? Alone?”

Slughorn looked puzzled. “Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?”

“We’ll get killed is what the problem is. There are things in there. Horrible, dangerous things.”

“Now, now, Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn said. “I am sure you will be just fine. Nothing is going to harm you. There are hardly any truly dangerous animals in there.”

Draco knew he was speaking to a professor but he just couldn’t help himself: “You do realise, professor, that there is a reason it’s called the _Forbidden_ Forest?”

“Of course, dear boy, but most of these creatures are harmless and in any case residing much further in than a mere couple hundred yards.”

“But it’s a full moon,” Draco said and cringed when he heard his own voice; high pitched and rather panicky.

“Ah, yes,” Slughorn said and looked as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Well, so long as you are vigilant and not too loud and don’t cut yourselves and begin bleeding, you should be fine. And in any case, I trust you both know how to cast a stunning spell.”

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Potter said, looking at Draco with a smirk. “I’ll look after you. There’s no need to be afraid.”

Draco snapped his head to look at Potter. “I’m not afraid,” he said, his voice betraying him.

“Good, Harry my boy,” Slughorn said. “Very good. When you have finished you can put the spores away in the ingredients cupboard. I shall leave it unlocked.”

Draco and Potter began their walk across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest.

It was the beginning of October and, at eight thirty, already pitch dark. Draco did not like the dark. He tried to calm himself. He did not want to let Potter see him making a fool of himself. If Potter wasn’t scared, neither was he.

However, the closer they got to the forest, the harder it was for Draco not to panic. He could hear himself breathing heavily, and when the howl of a wolf, or werewolf, sounded clearly somewhere in the forest, he stopped.

Potter didn’t seem to notice at first but then stopped and looked back. “Are you coming or what, Malfoy?”

Draco wanted to make some sort of retort, but he found it near impossible to open his mouth. “I…”

“Malfoy, are you scared?” Potter asked looking far too amused.

“Of course not, Potter,” Draco said, but his voice didn’t sound convincing in the least.

“You really are, aren’t you?” Potter sounded gleeful.

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“Or what, you’ll make me?”

“I am warning you, Potter. Shut. Up.”

Potter began backing away towards the Forbidden Forest, still facing Draco. “Who would have thought; the Slytherin Prince of Darkness afraid of the dark.”

Draco snapped. “Yeah, well you try living with a power crazed maniac who enjoys threatening to send all sorts of nasty creatures in to your room at night including Fenrir Greyback; and your mad aunt who finds it amusing casting the Cruciatus on you while you sleep while having horrible, horrible nightmares that she put in your head to demonstrate her considerable Legilimency skills, _and_ has a _very_ disturbing relationship with aforementioned werewolf; or your obsessed father who takes pleasure in torturing and doing who knows what to your mother in the night along with an assorted selection of other Death Eaters, with the doors locked and warded against you beyond the abilities of Alohomora and apparition, so you can do nothing but listen to her scream. _You_ try that and then let’s see how you feel.”

Draco couldn’t see Potter’s face, but he had stopped moving. It was quiet for a while. Then Potter spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that it… that it was like that.”

“No,” Draco said. “You didn’t.”

Potter looked over his shoulder towards the forest and then back to Draco. “Listen, you don’t have to come along. I’ll do it myself. I won’t tell Slughorn.”

“Right,” Draco said. “So you can go back and have a nice little chat with your little friends about how the big bad Slytherin is a coward and made you do detention all by your sorry little self? I don’t think so.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Malfoy,” Potter answered.

“Right,” Draco said sarcastically, not believing a word. There was no way he was going to let Potter do that detention by himself.

So they walked on and entered the Forbidden Forest. They didn’t talk at all for the rest of the evening. When they had finished they both went to place the spores in the ingredients cabinet and went to the 7th year common room.

They entered each of their dormitories without saying good night.

On Friday, Draco was expecting Potter to make some sort of innuendo or comment about the things Draco had admitted to the evening prior, but it didn’t happen. In fact, Potter pretty much ignored Draco the whole day, which suited Draco just fine.

In the course of the day it was rumoured that Finnigan had somehow managed to procure another three bottles of Ogden’s firewhiskey, and after supper a large part of the 7th years gathered in the common room for another game of truth or dare.

Same rules as last time applied, being if you refused to answer a question or do a dare, you could choose between boils in the arse for a week or _I Had Sex In Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom From Behind Against the Wall_ written on your face in neon writing. (And a week’s detention from Granger should one choose that option.)

Potter had scowled at that and suggested they come up with something else this week. Pansy had suggested that Potter let everybody know of a new place and manner he and the Weaselette had fucked, to which Potter had responded with a resentful ‘fuck you’.

Before the game started they all took a drop of the Veritaserum Potter had procured at the last game.

Granger announced that since it was now actually not possible for them to refuse to answer truthfully as the Veritaserum would compel them to answer no matter what, she was going to work on a spell that could be cast on all of them before the next game to ensure truthful answers but with the possibility of refusing to answer.

There was general approval of this, and that was how it was established that the games would continue.

“So, who starts?” Bones asked.

“Spin a bottle and whoever it lands on goes first,” Pansy answered.

So Bones spun a bottle, which landed on Thomas.

“Oh, um,” he began. “Padma; truth or dare?”

The Ravenclaw chose truth.

“Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about someone from our year?”

She had.

Other truths were told and dares performed; Pansy admitted to having fantasised about Lupin (and not just during 3rd year), Longbottom turned out to be _way_ more experienced than one would think, Brown admitted to having fantasised about another girl, Boot was dared to massage Abbott’s breasts (with her bra on), Bones had to put up with Weasley stuffing his tongue down her throat, Potter had to snog the other Patil twin, Draco had to snog Brown and Granger had her breasts sucked by Blaise (very much without her bra on) after which she was flushed and panting and Blaise was smirking.

And then it was Blaise’s turn. “Draco, truth or dare?”

“It was just my turn a few minutes ago. I snogged Brown,” Draco said.

“I know you did,” Blaise answered. “I was there. And it’s your turn again now. So, Draco; truth or dare”

Afraid of what Blaise might force him to admit to, should he choose truth, Draco chose dare.

He regretted it immediately, seeing Blaise’s wicked smirk and his eyes flashing toward Potter.

“Don’t you dare, Blaise,” Draco said warningly.

Blaise’s smirk turned into a wolfish grin. “I dare you to snog Potter. Until I say stop.”

Draco glanced in Potter’s direction and saw Potter do the same in his.

“You might as well get it over with,” Pansy said, smiling. “And darling, judging from last Friday; it can’t be that bad.”

“Fuck you, Pansy,” Draco said. “Fine. Get over here, Potter.”

“Nuh-uh, Potter said. I went over to you last time. This is _your_ dare. You get over here.”

Draco grudgingly moved to sit back on his heels in front of Potter, who assumed the same position.

Draco looked into Potter’s very green eyes and couldn’t stop his hands as they for reached up to take off his glasses and put them on the floor next to them.

Potter blinked a couple of times but didn’t seem to mind.

Draco cleared his throat and leaned in.

Potter did the same.

Their lips met and both of them tilted their heads. Draco closed his eyes.

Just as last Friday, Potter’s lips were soft and moist.

Draco flicked his tongue out and gently touched Potter’s lower lip with it. He felt Potter’s tongue brush against his and they both began responding to the kiss.

Draco had promised himself that this wouldn’t be like last time; he wouldn’t get caught up in the moment.

But he did. And so did Potter. It was difficult not to when influenced by alcohol and the absolutely magnificent feeling of another tongue on his. True, he hadn’t responded quite so fiercely when he had snogged Brown but, if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, she just wasn’t as good at it as Potter was. Draco was disgusted with himself for thinking that.

One of Potter’s hands was resting in the crook of Draco’s neck and the other gently cupping his jaw, stroking his cheek with his thumb, and Draco slid his own hands, which had somehow found their way to Potter’s hips, up Potter’s sides and on to his back, pulling him closer.

Potter slowly slid his hand from Draco’s jaw and let it rest on Draco’s nape, nuzzling the fine hairs there for a short while, until he took a firm hold on Draco’s neck as if to hold him in place.

Draco couldn’t help the quiet moan he let slip into Potter’s mouth then. He thought it likely that Potter had both heard and felt the small moan, but Merlin, he hoped no one else had.

Potter responded by intensifying the kiss. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Draco didn’t know, but at the time, he honestly didn’t care. He was lost in the kiss, and by the feel of it, so was Potter.

They had both got up to stand on their knees and, just like last time, they were pressed flush against each other.

Draco still had his arms around Potter and was holding him tight, and he felt Potter moving the hand that was resting in the crook of his neck downwards over his shoulder and onto Draco’s back, holding on to him equally tight.

They were practically devouring each other and when they finally dove up for air, they were still clinging on tight to each other in some sort of hug. Their faces were so close that their lips were touching each other’s cheeks. Draco could feel Potter’s breath on his cheek and ear and hear him panting.

For a couple of moments they didn’t move, but then Draco registered Potter move his head and soon after felt a tentative nibble on his earlobe. Potter sucked it into his mouth and then grazed his teeth over it as he let it go.

Draco whimpered.

Potter took that as a cue to continue, sucking gently on the sensitive skin below Draco’s earlobe.

And Draco whimpered again and bit his lower lip. He tilted his head slightly to the side as Potter began placing kisses and nibbling along his jaw. It went straight to his groin.

Draco slid both his hands down Potter’s back and let them slide up under Potter’s T-shirt, placing one arm around Potter’s waist and the other on his back, if possible pulling him even closer.

One of Draco’s thighs had at some point found its way to rest between Potter’s thighs, and Draco now felt Potter’s thigh sliding in between his, so that they were practically straddling each other’s legs somehow. He became aware of Potter’s erection resting firmly against his hip while his own poked into Potter’s hip. The friction caused both boys to moan.

Potter’s kisses and nibbles had reached Draco’s chin, and Potter kissed his way up to Draco’s mouth, sliding his tongue in again. And Draco once again succumbed to the pure joy that it was, being kissed like that.

He had just begun moving his hands down over the small of Potter’s back towards the curve of his arse, earning a shudder and a whimper from Potter, when he registered someone _very_ close to each their faces.

“Why is it that every time I come here looking for a shag, I find you two kissing?”

It was the Weaselette.

Both Draco and Potter broke the kiss to look to the side. They were pressed so closely together that their cheeks were pressed against each other when they turned their heads.

The Weaselette was sitting back on her heels right next to them with her eyebrows raised and looking mostly amused, but with a pinch of annoyed.

It took both of them a moment or two to register what exactly was going on. They snapped their heads round to look at the other at exactly the same time, causing their lips to touch again. They both quickly released each other, and Draco gave Potter a rough shove for good measure, then quickly scrambled back to his seat.

“What the fuck, Potter?” Draco said angrily.

“ _Me_?” Potter asked, incredulously. “I dare say you were just as much a participant in this as I was.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Draco said. “You were the one with all the nibbling and kissing and sucking.”

Potter flushed. “That was _not…_ I…” He turned towards Blaise. “Why didn’t you stop us, you prick?”

“Yeah,” Draco joined in.

“I tried,” Blaise said. “Several times. You didn’t hear me so I stopped. It was very entertaining.”

“I have a hard time believing that, Blaise,” Draco said.

“You’re going to have to believe me,” Blaise said, grinning. “I took the Veritaserum, so I can’t lie.”

“So, speaking of Veritaserum,” Finnigan said. “Malfoy, did you enjoy kissing Harry?

“Yes,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“And Harry,” Finnigan continued. “Did you enjoy kissing Malfoy?”

“Yes,” Potter answered through equally gritted teeth.

The Weaselette was looking from one blushing boy to the other. “I really have to join one of these games some time. It seems like a lot of fun,” she grinned.

“Fuck you, She-Weasel,” Draco said.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter said angrily.

The Weaselette just grinned. “I think I’ll use Harry for that, Malfoy, but thank you for offering.”

“ _Ginny!_ ” Potter said, but the Weaselette just continued.

“You’re welcome to watch, if you want.” Her grin widened. “You already have a couple of times.”

There was a fair amount of snickering among the other 7th years joining the circle.

“ _Ginny! Enough! Stop it!_ ” Potter said again and blushed furiously. He stood up and edged away from the circle.

Potter cast a quick glance over at Draco. When their eyes met, Draco quickly looked away, also blushing.

Draco was tempted to say ‘ _Yes, and you enjoyed it, didn’t you?_ ’ but he was afraid of what _he_ might have to admit to if he did. So he just hid his face in his hands.

“So, Harry, is it possible for us to talk in your dorm?” the Weaselette asked, stroking up and down his chest with her fingers, clearly insinuating that talking wasn’t really on top of her priority list.

“It is, but I’m not sure I want to go in there with you right now,” Potter answered. He seemed as surprised by his own answer as the Weaselette did.

Potter and the Weaselette were standing a bit away from the other players who were all pretending not to listen. Some interested if there was going to be a repeat of the previous Friday’s audio show and some just curious about the interaction between the couple.

“Ooohh, the Veritaserum,” mini Weasley said. “I need to take advantage of this.”

Potter’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do that. That’s just mean.”

“So, what to ask, what to ask,” she continued, tapping her chin with her index finger. “I know; Are you aroused right now?” she purred.

“Yes,” Potter answered. “Could we please take this someplace else?”

“In a bit. You’re the one who refused to go to your dorm with me. Are you hard?”

“Yes,” Potter answered through gritted teeth. “Enough now, Ginny – I’ll go to the dorm with you.”

“ _How_ aroused are you?” She cupped Potter’s erection and he squirmed, trying to get away.

“Very,” he answered. And tried to pull her away towards his dorm again.

“Is it me who has aroused you?”

“No,” he said, looking not a little bit annoyed now. “Let’s go somewhere else, Ginny, _please_.” He looked very insisting and, though Draco quite enjoyed the show, his Veritaserum induced mind didn’t think the Weaselette was being very nice.

She grinned. “Thought so.” She looked pointedly in the direction of Draco who tried to will himself to disappear. Potter tugged at her arm and tried to pull her along, but she continued. “We’ll go in a bit, I said.” She pressed herself up against Potter and licked his collarbone. “How badly do you want me to suck you right now?”

Draco thought she should have seen it coming.

Potter pushed her away. He looked angry. “I don’t. Right now, I’d actually rather have _him_ do it,” he hissed at her and pointed towards Draco.

Several jaws dropped, and everybody stopped pretending not to listen and was now watching the couple eagerly. Except Weasley; he looked decidedly uncomfortable. Draco just sat with his mouth agape.

“Ex _cuse_ me?” The Weaselette asked, propping her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah, and you know it’s true. Because _I can’t lie_ right now, which you very well know and for some _fucking_ twisted reason you decide to use that against me asking fucking humiliating questions in the middle of the fucking common room in front of FUCKING EVERYBODY.”

The she-Weasel rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like a prissy prude, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

Potter moved to stand right in front of her. He narrowed his eyes and pointed his index finger at her. “And you are acting like a fucking bitch.” He turned to look at Weasley. “I’m sorry Ron, but she is.”

Weasley lifted both palms in front of him. “I don’t want to take sides, Harry. But you’re right. She is.”

“Thank you Ron,” Potter said. He then turned on his heel and went to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory where he slammed the door behind him.

“ _Don’t you dare walk away from me, Harry Potter_!” the Weaselette said loudly and followed him. She yanked the door open and went in, also slamming it behind her.

It was as if everybody in the common room was holding their breath.

They could hear parts of a fight going on.

“… _bitch_ ”

“… _acting like a girl_ ”

“… _wrong with you._ ”

“… _me?_ _What’s wrong with_ you _?_ ”

“… _fucking_ …”

“… _Malfoy_ …”

“ _That was a dare!_ ”

“ _…loved it, didn’t you?_ ”

“…”

It was impossible to hear what Potter answered, and though Draco was cringing and blushing, he would have liked to know what he said.

SLAP.

The sound of a palm against skin was unmistakeable. Again, several jaws dropped and worried looks were exchanged.

“You don’t think he hit her, do you?” a Patil twin asked with eyes wide.

“Of course not,” Draco snapped before he could restrain himself. “It’s Potter.”

The comment earned him several raised eyebrows.

“Malfoy is right,” Weasley said, and Granger seconded. “He’d never do that. It was most likely the other way around.”

At that precise moment a loud moan was heard, very obviously from the Weaselette, and after that a rhythmic thumping.

The room erupted in giggling and snickering and a few outright laughed. Weasley looked ill.

Blaise leaned in and asked Draco in a low voice: “Do you think he’s going all ‘Mr. Potter’ on her?”

“Shut up Blaise,” Draco said. He looked around the room to see if anyone might have heard, and caught Granger’s eyes. She held eye contact.

Oh yes; she definitely knew.

*

Angry make up sex was awesome, Harry had decided after his and Ginny’s fight and following shag Friday evening.

‘Mr. Potter’ and ‘Ms. Weasley’ had made another appearance, and Harry had taken Ginny roughly from behind.

He was still very angry with her, though, and he was puzzled as to why she would humiliate him like that.

She had criticised him for kissing Malfoy, even though she very well knew that it was a dare, which Harry thought completely unreasonable of her. It made him wonder if she was jealous even though she acted as if she thought it was amusing.

When she said that ‘ _you just loved it, didn’t you’_ , she had got angry with him for admitting _that yes, he had, and that if she didn’t want to hear the truth, she shouldn’t ask him while under the influence of Veritaserum so really, it was her own fault._

That was when she slapped him and ‘Mr. Potter’ took the stage.

Harry decided he would have to ask the others if Ginny could join the next game, to give her peace of mind.

He spent the weekend in his dormitory, brooding and doing his homework.


	5. A Real Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is confused and the boys have their second detention.

Harry hadn’t talked much to Ginny during the weekend, as he had spent most of his time in his dorm, and she hadn’t come to see him. In fact, he hadn’t talked to her at all.

It hadn’t bothered Harry as he was still annoyed with her and didn’t really feel like talking to her. Or having sex with her for that matter.

And his guess was that she was probably miffed at him as well. Though he didn’t see a reason why she should be. He hadn’t done anything wrong after all.

Come Monday, he thought that maybe they should talk, and he asked her at breakfast if she would like to go for a walk with him after supper.

He had forgotten that she would be studying with Neville every Monday and Thursday evening.

That meant that they would have to wait until Tuesday.

Harry was still uncomfortable about the whole kissing Malfoy thing. Again. Especially the part where he had got an erection. That was just mortifying. Luckily, no one had seen. Or at least no one had commented. And at least Malfoy got an erection as well. It would have been even worse if Harry had been the only one. That Malfoy had got an erection as well, also meant that he wouldn’t walk around telling people that Harry got one. Which was good, of course. But unsettling just the same.

Monday evening Harry was sitting on a sofa in front of the fireplace looking in to the flames, painfully aware that Malfoy was sitting with his fellow Slytherins at one of the tables, doing their homework. Hermione and Ron were sitting at one of the tables as well, also studying. For once Hermione hadn’t badgered Harry into studying as well, but left him alone to his thoughts without commenting at all.

Harry didn’t know how much time had passed, when Ron and Hermione joined him in the sofa, one on either side.

They both looked at him intensely. He didn’t say anything but kept staring at the fire.

Eventually Hermione said quietly: “I think you need to talk about it, Harry,”

“Did you have something specific in mind or can I choose the topic myself?” Harry asked.

 “You know what I mean, Harry,” she said.

“…”

“Come on, mate,” Ron said. “You know she won’t budge. You might as well just get it over with.”

“Exactly,” Hermione said and stood up. “Come on, let’s go to my dormitory; Lavender and Parvati are doing some sort of ridiculous Divination’s experiment. They won’t be in till past midnight.”

Harry sighed, but stood up to follow his two best friends. He knew Ron was right: Hermione wouldn’t let it go.

When they entered the girls’ dormitory, Hermione conjured some pillows which she propped up against the headboard, and told Harry to lie back on them. He rolled his eyes at her but complied even so.

She then conjured up two armchairs; one on each side of the bed, facing Harry. She dimmed the lights in the room to ‘ _make it more comfortable for him to talk freely_ ’. She also conjured a tissue box and, somehow, transfigured a half-full cup of tea from her bedside table to a pot of steaming hot relaxing herbal tea.

Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“You truly are amazing, Hermione,” he said. “And I really truly love you.” He leaned over to the chair she was occupying, hugged her and kissed the top of her head. He then quickly turned towards Ron, realising what that might have sounded like. “Like a sister!” he quickly added, holding up both hands.

Even though the lights were dimmed, Harry could see Hermione blushing.

“I figured that,” Ron answered with a small smile, “Since you’re still dating my sister. But good to know even so.”

“So, Harry,” Hermione said.

“So…” Harry answered.

“Talk to us.”

“You know, Hermione,” Harry answered. “I think, perhaps you should start, since you obviously have a very clear idea as to what I need to talk about.”

“Oh, no, Harry, of course I don’t,” she said. “We just figured –“

“Ginny and Malfoy,” Ron interjected, cutting her off.

“Right,” Harry said. “What about them?”

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” Hermione said as Ron rolled his eyes. “You kissed Malfoy again, and you were both very clearly turned on by it. And on top of that Ginny comes along and humiliates you even further.”

Harry glanced at Ron, looking slightly worried.

“Don’t worry, mate,” he said. “Yes, she’s my sister and it _is_ a little uncomfortable discussing you two like this, but you’re my best friend, and she really _was_ acting very rotten.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said.

Hermione made a gesture at him with her hand. “So, Harry. Start talking.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “First and foremost I would like to point out that I did not ‘kiss Malfoy again’ as you put it: I was _forced_ to kiss him again.”

“All right, Harry. Duly noted,” Hermione said. “Now, tell us how you _feel._ ”

Harry rolled his eyes but started even so. “I’m upset and embarrassed and annoyed and angry and unsettled. And I’m confused”

“Good,” Hermione nodded, then added, “Well, not ‘good’, obviously, but good that you are able to identify and acknowledge those emotions.”

Harry once again rolled his eyes. “You sound like a psychiatrist, Hermione.”

“What’s a psychiatrist?” Ron interjected.

“Muggle mind healer,” Harry answered.

“Yes, well, whatever helps, right? Please, continue.” She gestured towards him again, and Harry got the feeling she actually enjoyed the whole ‘let’s-help-Harry-get-in-touch-with-his-emotions’-thing.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Harry admitted.

“Start from the beginning, then. Why are you upset?”

Harry leaned back to an almost lying position, folded his hands across his stomach and looked up on the roof of the four poster bed, focussing on nothing in particular.

“I’m upset because of all the things I’m feeling and what’s making me feel them. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“No,” Ron said at the same time.

Hermione looked at Ron and huffed. “Of course it makes sense, Ronald. Harry is feeling embarrassed, annoyed, angry, unsettled and confused. This upsets him. He is also upset about what has caused him to feel all those emotions.”

“Oh. Right. Please, do continue.” Ron gestured towards Harry.

When Harry didn’t continue, Hermione, as usual, helped him along. “Try to separate the incidents, Harry.”

“Well… I’m embarrassed that I responded to that kiss the way I did,” he said. “I feel embarrassed facing the others from our year because they witnessed it and Malfoy because… Well, the same thing really.”

Harry paused. “Aren’t you going to dissect what I’m saying and make me feel better?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not until you’re done. That’s why I’m taking notes.”

Harry noticed the small note book and quill in her hand. He couldn’t help a small smile.

“I’m obviously angry and annoyed with Zabini for making me do the dare in the first place. I know it was Malfoy’s dare but it was mine too in a way which makes the whole thing Zabini’s fault. That prick. I’m also annoyed with Malfoy for intensifying the kiss. It was impossible not to respond in some way. You would have, too. Both of you.”

Ron scoffed. Hermione glared at him and he had the decency to look embarrassed.

Harry didn’t notice, though. “I’m angry with myself for responding to the kiss, as well as embarrassed. And… Malfoy told me some things which made me feel horrible for some of the things I’ve said to him this year. And last year for that matter. And the year before. And at the same time I still loathe the git and find him very unpleasant, so it confuses me that I should feel sorry for him. It also confuses me _why_ I react to those kisses the way I do.”

He looked over to where Hermione was sitting. “Do you want to make your input or should I continue on with Ginny?”

“You just go ahead, Harry.”

Harry turned his head to look at Ron. He was worried about how Ron might react to Harry expressing his annoyance with his sister.

“It’s okay, Harry,” he said. “If it gets too uncomfortable, I’ll leave. You’re my best mate. I want to support you.”

Harry turned his focus to the canopy of the four poster again and sighed. “I’m angry with her. Very angry, actually. And she just… She acts like it’s nothing – what she did. It’s like she can’t even see she did anything that might be considered wrong. And seriously; I’m her fucking boyfriend. She shouldn’t treat me like that. It’s really quite hurtful. And mean. I don’t understand why she would feel the need to do something like that.” He sighed. “And I think I might still be upset that she’s studying with Neville.”

Ron drew breath and leaned forward to speak but Hermione silenced him with a glare.

“I know there’s nothing sexual between them,” Harry continued. “And I know he’s the best in the school at Herbology. And I agree that he is the obvious choice as a tutor, and it’s not like I want to tutor her or anything. It’s just… She chose to study tonight even after I asked her to go for a walk so we could talk. And I refuse to believe that Neville would be upset that she cancelled or rescheduled. It’s like she chose him over me, and I know I’m being petty and unfair…”

Hermione interrupted him. “Stop right there, Harry. We’re not asking you to try to reason with yourself. We’re only trying to get you to tell us how you _feel_ , and if that is what you feel, then that’s fine – we’ll talk about it afterwards.”

“Okay, well then; I _do_ feel like she chose him over me. We needed to talk and she brushed it off. We still need to talk, but I’ll bet you that come tomorrow evening she’ll try to get me to have sex with her instead. And if I resist, I bet you that she’s going to try something new that will get me rattled and decide that we can talk later. And then we won’t. Because we never just _talk_. We only ever have sex.” Harry hadn’t realised it was true until he said it.

He sat up and looked straight ahead at something that wasn’t there. He pointed his index finger at nothing in particular. “I think… I think that I’m upset about the fact that Ginny and I never talk. The sex is brilliant, obviously, but it would be nice to have an actual conversation once in a while. Yes. That’s it. I’m jealous that she and Neville are spending quality time together without having sex and that she would choose that over spending quality time with me, and… and I think I’m afraid that our relationship is only sexual. Also, I’m confused that I very strongly dislike Malfoy and at the same time got aroused when kissing him, because yes; I did. I’m also confused that he has actually managed to make me feel sorry for him and thinking that you might be right, Hermione; that he really _is_ a product of his environment. Merlin, I _am_ acting like a girl.”

He scooted back on the bed and rested his back against the headboard, stretching his legs in front of him and crossing his ancles. He felt relieved despite the fact that he had got no solutions to his problems.

Hermione turned up the light.

“Wow,” Ron exclaimed.

“Yeah.”

Hermione grinned. “Very good, Harry. You worked that out all by yourself.”

“I did.” He grinned back at her, almost proudly. “I still don’t have any solutions, though,” he said, frowning.

“No, but we’ll work on that later. Although I do think you should talk to Ginny.”

“If she’ll let me,” Harry said, looking glum.

“So…” Ron leaned forward in his chair towards Harry, “What did Malfoy tell you?”

Harry could see the curiosity in his face.

“I’m sorry, Ron, but I can’t tell you.”

“What? Why?” Ron asked, leaning back a little.

“They’re not my things to tell.”

“Did he tell you in confidence or something?” Ron asked.

“No. He didn’t mean to tell me. I pushed him.”

“Then why can’t you tell? It’s just Malfoy.”

For some reason that remark made Harry squirm.

Hermione snapped her head around to look at Ron. She looked shocked. “ _Ronald_.”

“What? He’s just a rotten Death Eater. Well, the son of one at least.”

“Shut up, Ron,” Harry snapped. “You don’t know half of it. I pushed him. I shouldn’t have. I’m not telling so leave it.”

Ron looked stunned for a moment. “Fine,” he said, lifting both his hands as if to admit defeat.

There was a short awkward silence, when suddenly the door opened. Lavender and Parvati entered the room, and halted.

“Well, doesn’t this look cosy,” Parvati said.

“Hey Ron,” Lavender greeted.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she glared at Lavender. “Ron and Harry were just leaving. Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” they hurriedly agreed. Harry got up from the bed and Ron from the chair. Even though it was a while ago that Ron had gone out with Lavender, and even though Ron was the one to, albeit unknowingly, break it off, Hermione still got jealous and Ron flustered about interactions between him and Lavender.

So Harry and Ron left the girls’ dormitory, bidding Hermione good night and Ron pointedly not looking in Lavender’s direction.

When they entered the common room, almost all the other students had gone to bed. Only a few chairs were occupied.

Malfoy was sitting in one of them. He looked up when Harry closed the door to the girls’ dorm.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter. Been teaching your little posse how to behave themselves?”

Ron frowned. “Why do you keep calling him Mr. Potter, Malfoy?”

“Yes, why indeed? Mr. Potter?” Malfoy said, looking innocently at Harry and raising his eyebrows.

Harry raised his chin and raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s you who needs to learn how to behave yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” he said.

Malfoy scoffed and turned his attention back to the fire.

Ron didn’t notice the small quirk on Malfoys lips indicating the hint of a smile. Harry did. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“Do you know why he keeps calling you Mr. Potter, Harry?” Ron asked.

“No, it’s weird,” Harry said.

“You call him Mr. Malfoy too, though.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry said, explaining nothing.

He lay awake for a long time after they had gone to bed.

*

_Draco was standing in front of a desk, his back to it, hair dishevelled and his shirt unbuttoned. Eager hands slid from Draco’s jaw, thumbs brushing his plump lips that had just been kissed, down along his neck and over the shoulders, releasing them of the shirt. Harry’s hands. Harry slid his hands further down Draco’s arms to his wrists and pulled off the shirt entirely. Harry proceeded to suck Draco’s earlobe and the sensitive skin below the ear. He nibbled at Draco’s jaw, placing soft open mouthed kisses down his neck and along his collarbone. Harry’s hands roamed Draco’s torso. He bent down, sucking in one of Draco’s nipples and biting it lightly. Draco moaned. Harry straightened up and began kissing Draco forcefully, massaging Draco’s tongue with his. He carefully but firmly pushed Draco back to a sitting position on the desk. Harry grabbed Draco’s knees and spread his legs, positioning himself between them. They continued kissing fiercely as they began grinding their crotches together, causing friction to their aching cocks. Harry pushed Draco down to lie on the desk, and Draco closed his legs around Harry’s waist. They had stopped kissing, and Harry’s hands moved towards Draco’s trouser button. He unfastened it and unzipped the trousers. His hand moved inside Draco’s trousers. Harry pulled at the elastic band of his boxers, releasing Draco’s cock. Harry took hold of it and began pumping in a steady rhythm while holding eye contact with Draco; green eyes locked with grey. Draco was thrusting into Harry’s fist, increasing speed until…_

Draco woke with a start. He sat up; panting and sticky, eyes wide open.

 _Fuck_.

He cast a cleaning spell and went to the bathroom to splash some water in his face. When he entered the dorm again, the curtains around Blaise’s bed were drawn, and Blaise was sitting up, his eyes shining in the otherwise dark room, looking at Draco.

*

The morning after his ‘session’ with Ron and Hermione Harry went to breakfast in a much better mood and sat down at the Gryffindor table along with Ron and Hermione. He even managed to give Ginny a small peck on the lips as he sat down next to her, even though it did feel a little strained. Neville was already sitting on her other side, and they were discussing some Herbology assignment.

Per habit he sought out the platinum blonde hair at the Slytherin table.

“I wonder what he’s so upset about,” Harry said after a couple of minutes watching the Slytherin.

Ginny, Neville, Ron and Hermione looked in Harry’s direction. Ron and Hermione were sitting opposite Harry and had to crane their necks, looking over their shoulders.

Malfoy was sitting between Crabbe and Goyle, making what looked like small talk with Zabini and Parkinson who were sitting across from him. His appearance was, as always, one of perfect composure with not a hair out of place. He was pouring another cup of coffee and had laden his plate with a large amount of bacon and eggs. He even had his annoying signature smirk plastered on his face.

Four sets of eyes looked back at Harry, frowning, questioning, astonished.

“He looks the same as always to me,” Ron said.

The other three nodded in consent.

“Acts the same, too,” Neville added, earning nods from Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

“Oh, please,” Harry said, “It’s his second cup of coffee. _Black_ coffee.”

The other four didn’t answer, merely stared.

“So?” Ron asked.

Harry gestured with a hand towards Malfoy. “He never has black coffee; he always uses a swig of cream and one sugar. Not to mention; he loaded his plate first and _then_ poured the coffee. And do you _see_ his plate? It’s completely loaded with bacon.”

“What’s odd about that?” Ron asked. “Bacon is delicious. He probably just really felt like bacon today.”

Harry huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He always has the same for breakfast: He starts with pouring his coffee and adding the cream. Then he blows it and sets it to cool down while he loads his plate, which _always_ consists of one piece of toast with butter, scrambled eggs and two baked tomatoes plus a bowl of fresh fruit on the side. Then he pours a glass of pumpkin juice even though he doesn’t really enjoy it that much, takes a sip, wrinkles his nose, takes a sip of coffee and then begins with the toast.”

Harry looked at the others who were just staring at him. He got the feeling that they were being purposefully dense, and he continued to elaborate to make them understand. “He only ever has bacon after Quidditch matches, or after losing the House Cup or Quidditch Cup. And during our 4th year – he ate a disturbing amount of bacon during that year. And after the episode in the Ministry, and the… accidental slashing last year. He ate bacon every day for a week then. Also, he hasn’t snapped at Crabbe yet for using his fingers to eat. And his hair isn’t as shiny as usual, which indicates that he hasn’t used his usual hair products, which otherwise only ever happens on days of Quidditch matches or if their Quidditch practice is scheduled for a Saturday or Sunday morning.”

Harry looked expectantly at the others, waiting for them to agree with him that Malfoy was most certainly very upset about something.

Instead he was met by gaping mouths and raised eyebrows.

“What? You don’t see it?” he said, honestly confused about their reaction or the lack thereof.

They kept looking at him, not speaking.

Then Ginny moved her hand and put it on top of her cup, covering the contents.

“How do I take _my_ coffee, Harry?”

Harry thought hard. “Trick-question,” he said at last. “You don’t drink coffee,” he grinned.

“No, not a trick-question.” She moved her hand away from her cup, which was filled with a caramel coloured liquid. “A swig of cream and one sugar. Every morning.”

“Well that’s just…” Harry began. “That was an unfair question.”

“How so?” Neville asked.

“I – well, just because I haven’t noticed your coffee habits doesn’t mean that I haven’t noticed other things,” Harry pointed out.

“Oh?” Ginny said. “Like what exactly?”

Harry scrunched up his face, trying to think of something.

“Ron; you always have bangers and mash when it’s a possibility for supper, and you always stuff your face, and you always get very nervous before a Quidditch match. And Hermione; you always have toast for breakfast and you always scold Ron for stuffing his mouth. And Neville; You… You always stay behind after Herbology to chat with Professor Sprout. And Ginny; … Um… Uh… You also always have toast for breakfast. With orange jam. And you have a thing for exhibitionism.” Ron snorted, causing his pumpkin juice to spill out of his nostrils.

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione said. “Those things are just stating the obvious. And it’s nowhere near as detailed as the description you just gave of Malfoy. And that was just his eating habits and hair routines. I bet you could give even more descriptions and just as detailed.”

“I don’t like orange jam, Harry,” Ginny said. “It’s too bitter. And if you study my plate you will notice that it’s not a plate at all; it’s a bowl. With yoghurt and fresh fruit.”

Harry looked at the spot in front of Ginny. There was a bowl with yoghurt and fresh fruit and a cup of coffee with cream. Nothing else. “What are you getting at exactly?” Harry asked, addressing all of them. He was beginning to feel cornered and uncomfortable.

“You’re obsessed with him,” Ginny stated bluntly. “Still. As you always have been.”

“Oh come on, not this again,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Look, I already told you I accepted that he isn’t up to something, until further notice, that is.”

“That’s only one way of obsessing, Harry,” Hermione pointed out.

“Yeah,” Ginny interrupted, “You know more about him than you do about me, and I’m your girlfriend.”

“This is all in your heads,” Harry said, looking at them incredulously.

Ron shook his head. “It really isn’t, mate. You’re obsessed.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Neville was faster. “Harry, I know you keep saying that you’re not, but if you think about how you just described his eating habits in very specific detail, right down to the amount of sugar in his coffee and his occasional bacon intake, you must be able to see that that kind of knowledge does not come from nothing. You’ve been observing him for over six years. You remember the amount of bacon he ate _three years_ ago. I’d say that qualifies as some sort of obsession even though you’ve finally realised he isn’t up to something.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, his lips in a thin line, looking very insulted.

“Harry, you described his _hair_ habits,” Neville tried to reason.

Ginny nudged Neville’s leg with her knee. “There you go being all smart again.” She winked at him.

“Well forgive me for being attentive to my peers,” Harry said and stood up. “I’ll be spending this study period in the library. Alone.” He turned to face Ginny, a determined look on his face. “You will meet me tonight, Ginny. I need to talk to you. Our common room. Eight o’clock. The new password is ‘ _Sir Siegfried, o’ saviour, watch over me this night.’_ And you _will_ be there.”

Ginny’s eyes sparkled, while his three class mates were staring at him again.

“Well, I guess I’d better be there, hadn’t I, Mr. Potter?”

Harry blushed as he saw Ron frown. “What _is_ this Mr. Potter business? Malfoy calls him that, too.”

“Does he now?” Ginny asked, cocking an eyebrow as she looked curiously at Harry, who was still blushing.

“You’re not having some sort of sordid three-way affair involving Malfoy, are you?” Ron asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Of course not, Ron,” Ginny said. She looked at Harry. “At least not that I’m aware.”

“Don’t be daft, Ginny,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice level.

Hermione was fidgeting with her sleeves and seemed very interested in a dry piece of toast on her plate, and Neville and Ron were both frowning, looking slightly suspicious.

“He is awfully good looking, though,” Ginny said, smirking. “Wouldn’t mind tapping that.”

“I can’t believe you, Ginny,” Harry said angrily. “Everything with you comes down to sex. You can really be a quite unpleasant person.”

Harry hadn’t noticed that he had raised his voice considerably. He wasn’t shouting, but he wasn’t exactly being discreet either, and students in the near vicinity had turned to look.

Harry turned on his heel and began walking away.

“Oh, quit being such a girl,” Ginny all but shouted after him, and Harry turned around and walked back to her.

He bent down, looking her directly in the eyes and hissed. “ _Be there_.”

He then turned around and walked away. On his way out, he couldn’t help but glance in the direction of a certain blonde. Malfoy was following him with his eyes, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the sound had carried and, if it had, how much Malfoy had heard.

*

Draco was confused.

He spent the day avoiding Potter, positioning himself in opposite corners of the classrooms, surrounded by the other Slytherins.

He didn’t go to lunch but had Blaise bring him something to their dormitory, where he spent the time till next class. After class they had two study periods, and Draco made straight for the dorm again. He spent supper there as well after making sure that Blaise would bring him something to eat and drink.

Blaise looked at him knowingly with a smirk on his face. “So, Potter-problems again, I take it?”

Draco blushed. It was annoying how much he blushed lately. As a rule, Malfoys didn’t blush at all, but apparently Draco was the exception. And it was Potter’s fault. Stupid Potter with his stupid sparkling green eyes and his stupid soft lips.

“I hate Potter,” Draco said.

Blaise rolled his eyes.

At that moment Pansy burst in. “Okay, what the fuck is wrong, Draco?”

“Excuse me?” Draco said, full well knowing what she meant.

“You know full well what I mean.” She elaborated anyway: “You’ve been acting weird for the past couple of weeks, and today you’ve practically been hibernating. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Draco answered.

“It’s Potter,” Blaise said, and Draco glared at him.

“Well, I think that much is obvious,” Pansy said. “For as long as we’ve been at Hogwarts, every time you’re acting weird has to do with Potter. But what is it this time?”

Draco didn’t answer but merely studied his fingernails.

Blaise rolled his eyes and huffed. “There are several incidents in play here; There is the first kiss, there is the incident in the library and there’s the second kiss.”

“So?” she asked.

Blaise continued. “There are a few other incidents that you don’t know about.”

This peaked Pansy’s interest. “Ooh, what is it?”

“I don’t think I should tell you,” Draco said.

“Why?” Pansy looked insulted.

“I’m not sure I can trust you to not use it against me.”

Pansy’s jaw dropped. “ _Draco_! I can’t believe you. You, darling, are too paranoid for your own good. I love you – as a brother, mind, or an occasional fuck-buddy – and of course I won’t use anything truly upsetting against you. I might, and probably will, tease you and mock you, but I could never really hurt you. Unless you hurt me first, of course.”

“Of course,” Draco said.

“Just tell me, darling. I’m sure you will feel much better after.”

The room was completely silent for a while, while Draco continued looking at his hands, Blaise had his arms crossed over his chest and Pansy stood looking at Draco with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

“Well?”

Draco sighed. “The Monday after the first… dare… we had a fight. We beat each other up pretty bad. The morning after, I…” Draco couldn’t bring himself to continue.

“Potter caught Draco wanking in the bathroom,” Blaise blurted out. “He stayed to watch.” Pansy’s jaw dropped again. “Later that day there was the conversation about Potter’s tools in the library. And after supper Draco caught Potter and the Weaselette having sex. And stayed to watch. Potter saw him. They had eye contact while Potter came.”

“That is just _so_ not true, Blaise, and you know it,” Draco scolded.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “Which part? I think that was actually rather accurately put and very much in accordance with what you told me.”

“No it isn’t, Blaise. We didn’t have eye contact when he came; he looked at me, looked at the Weaselette, bit her and _then_ came.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Blaise said, not sounding sorry at all. “My mistake. That’s a major, significant, story-changing detail.”

“It is,” Draco said, raising his chin.

Pansy looked at him incredulously. “You watched Potter having sex? And he knew?”

Draco didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself.

“What did the Weaselette say?”

Draco, to his chagrin, once again felt himself blush slightly.

“She doesn’t know,” Blaise said.

Pansy opened her mouth then closed it again. Then she grinned. “He is one kinky bastard,” she said, snickering.

“Yes,” Draco said.

“We should use it against him,” Pansy said.

“Absolutely not,” Draco said with certainty.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because… I… It will put me in a bad light as well.”

Pansy frowned, looking dissatisfied. She then narrowed her eyes. “Still,” she said, looking pensive, “that must have been, what, last Tuesday? Then there was the kiss on Friday – and thank you, Blaise, for that; it was very entertaining – but you’ve been acting _relatively_ normal during the weekend and all day yesterday. Something must have happened yesterday evening. What could it be?” She narrowed her eyes and tapped her lips with her index finger. “Do you know, Blaise?”

Blaise shook his head. He then looked as if he remembered something. He raised his arm and pointed his index finger. “I do believe he had a wet dream last night.”

“Did not!” Draco said, too quickly.

Blaise narrowed his eyes. “Did too. Your panting woke me up. _And_ I heard you saying ‘ _Potter_ ’ in your sleep.

“I most certainly did not,” Draco spluttered. He blushed fiercely, contradicting himself without speaking.

“You did, didn’t you?” Pansy said, grinning and looking positively gleeful.

Draco didn’t think his skin could bare the amount of blushing it was currently exposed to.

Both Pansy and Blaise snickered.

“All right, _fine_. I did,” Draco said. “And it’s killing me. It’s humiliating and very disturbing.”

Blaise smirked. “I didn’t really hear you panting. _Or_ saying ‘Potter’ in your sleep. I woke up because you slammed the door when you went to the bathroom.”

“You fucking bastard,” Draco said, glaring at the other boy.

Blaise just kept smirking, and Pansy had covered her mouth with her hand, obviously stifling a laugh.

“I need to get laid,” Draco said, mostly to himself.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, darling, but I think Potter’s pretty much taken,” Pansy said with mock solemnity.

“Not with Potter, obviously, you utter prat. I need to find some girl.”

“Yes, you do that then. And regarding Potter, you will just have to contain your needs and desires and wait and see if there is another dare at some point.” She had an almost feral grin on her face.

Draco got a nasty feeling that there definitely would be at some point.

“Fuck off, both of you.”

Pansy looked at him lovingly and planted a kiss on his forehead before she sauntered off.

Blaise took a moment to examine Draco’s face to check if he was all right. When he was satisfied that he was he, too, turned to leave the dorm, leaving Draco to his thoughts. “I’ll make sure she understands that she isn’t to say or do anything. I’ll threaten her if I have to.”

Draco managed a small smile in Blaise’s direction.

*

Come eight o’ clock, Harry was pacing the dormitory. Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus had agreed to stay out of there for a couple of hours till he and Ginny were done talking.

She was fifteen minutes late, and Harry was beginning to fear that she might not show, when the door opened and she entered. Ginny went directly over to Harry and began snogging him fiercely, placing one hand on his cock and one on his arse.

“I’ll cast a silencing charm,” she said.

Harry gently pushed her away before he would lose himself in the moment. “We won’t need one, Ginny. We’re not having sex tonight.”

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Ginny asked, frowning.

Harry gestured towards the bed, and they both sat down.

“Yes Ginny, something is wrong,” he answered. “And you should know what it is.”

She huffed. “Is this about Friday night?”

“It is,” he answered. “And don’t huff at me. And it’s also about the fact that we never talk. We only ever have sex.”

“So? Do you not enjoy the sex?”

“Of course I do. You know I do. I just think it would be nice to talk to you as well once in a while. About real things and not just all the things we want to do to each other.”

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. “But I like talking about all the things I want you to do to me.” She scooted closer and leaned in. She began nibbling his ear and tracing it with her tongue. Then she moved her hand to rest on his cock again, massaging it gently.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to focus on what he was trying to get through to her, but it was really hard. He was, after all, a seventeen year old teenage boy. And when Ginny leaned in, whispering: “For instance, I would really like to talk about how much I want you to fuck me in the arse,” Harry lost himself in the moment, forgetting what he had initially wanted to do with her that evening.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she whispered.” I want you to start by eating me out, while you stick your thumb up my pussy. Then I want you to slowly enter first one finger, then two and then three fingers into my arse, preparing that tight, tight hole, so your big, delicious cock will be able to enter, inch after inch, just filling me out.” She licked his neck, and Harry whimpered. “And then I want you to turn me around to rest on my knees and elbows on the bed and slowly burry your cock in my arse until you’re fully in. And then you’re going to pound me hard.”

Harry was completely defenceless against her words; a hot and horny girl telling him she wanted him to fuck her hard in the arse. It really would be a crime not to indulge her. They could always talk later.

So Harry pushed her down to lie on the bed, pulled off her skirt and knickers and threw them on the floor. Without making time for foreplay, he opened her knees and dived in. She was already very wet. He traced her labia with his tongue, teasing her until she whimpered. He proceeded to flick her clit gently with his tongue a couple of times, before he sucked it in. He had learned that that was how she liked it best, so he sucked her clit while sliding his tongue over it, as if he was French kissing it, and pushed his thumb inside her as requested. He pulled out his thumb and slipped three fingers inside her to use her wetness as a lubricant. Immediately after, he slowly inserted a digit in the tight hole below her pussy. Ginny gasped as it entered.

“Let me know if I hurt you or if you want me to stop.”

She nodded.

Harry let the finger rest there without moving it, wanting to let her get used to it being there, until she wiggled her bum, indicating that she was ready for him to move it. He began gently pushing it in and out of her. He kept sucking her clit, though he was finding it hard to concentrate. He longed to see what was going on and wanted to watch his finger inside her. He added a finger and this time didn’t wait for her to get used to it. He pushed them in and out of her at a slow pace, until he could feel her relax. He then inserted a third finger and slowly moved all three fingers back and forth. As he lodged his fingers deep inside her tight arse, he let his thumb slip into her pussy once again and increased the sucking on her hardened nub. He made scissoring movements with the fingers in her arse and wiggled his thumb in her pussy. It didn’t take long for her to come, and the feeling of her clenching around Harry’s fingers had him panting, his pulse increasing considerably, at the knowledge that it would soon be his cock inside the tight, heated hole.

He pulled out his fingers and wiped his mouth with his sleeve as Ginny turned over. She positioned herself on her knees and rested her elbows and forehead on the bed. Harry inserted his fingers again, one at a time, wanting to see what it looked like. It was the hottest fucking thing he had ever seen. He placed his free hand on the small of her back and took in the sight of his fingers slipping in and out of her.

“Put it in,” Ginny ordered.

Harry positioned his cock at the tight entrance and slowly started moving forward. He felt her flinch as the head went past her rim, and he paused to let her get used to the feeling. He massaged the top of her buttocks with one hand while holding on to her hip with the other. When he felt her relax, he slowly inched in further, pausing once in a while as not to hurt her, until he was fully lodged inside her.

Harry groaned. “So tight; fuck that’s good,” he said.

Ginny was extremely tight, and he had trouble holding still. When he felt her move slightly backwards, he began thrusting at an agonisingly slow pace, gradually picking up speed. He had stopped massaging her lower back and was holding on to her hips with both hands. He closed his eyes, revelling in the sensation of something so tight around him. They were both gasping and moaning and panting and groaning, and Harry felt pearls of sweat trickling down his back and neck. He let his hands slide along Ginny’s thigh and began rubbing her clit once again. She started moving backwards, meeting his thrusts.

Harry opened his eyes and looked through his lashes at his cock sliding in and out between the pale globes dotted with freckles. He closed his eyes again and leaned down, all but lying on top of her. He envisioned long slender fingers gripping at the sheets. He imagined himself lying over a long, pale back. He imagined fisting platinum blonde hair, and his hand sliding its way along a pointed jaw line, along a slender throat, his fingers tracing an Adam’s apple and running further down a strong, slender torso to grab the throbbing cock between Malfoy’s thighs.

Wait… What?

Harry’s eyes flew open as he jerked and stilled.

Ginny lifted her head and looked over her shoulder, looking concerned. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”

Harry shook his head vigorously. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

He started thrusting into her again, trying hard to block out the mental image of his cock pounding in and out of Malfoy.

However, the images were overwhelming and in the end he caved, allowing the mental image to unfold, as he pounded into Ginny harder and faster, until the headboard was banging against the wall. He would just have to think about it later. Or preferably not at all.

His hand was still between her legs, working her clit, rubbing it with his palm. Her breathing soon became shallow and quick, until it stilled, and she let out a loud moan. Harry felt her clench around his cock, as she had her second orgasm that evening.

The extreme tightness pushed him over the edge.

“ _Oh_ FUCK” he shouted as he came hard, emptying himself inside her. He held on to her hips with both hands as he shuddered violently. Harry couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped his mouth.

His arms and legs were shaking and he fell on top of Ginny, squashing her. He tried to roll off her but was having a hard time doing so.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m having trouble moving.”

She chuckled. “Me too. Try rolling off again and I’ll push in the same direction.”

Harry tried rolling off to the side again and with Ginny pushing, he finally succeeded.

They lay on their backs, out of breath and their heads turned to look at each other. They both smiled sheepishly.

“I _really_ liked that,” Harry said, grinning wide.

“So did I, mostly,” Ginny said. “I like it better the regular way though.”

“Oh,” Harry said, trying not to sound disappointed. “Well I like it that way as well, so we can just do that if you want.”

Ginny smiled at him. “We can do this too, Harry.” She managed to roll on to her side, resting on her elbow. “You know, there _is_ something else I would like to try at some point.”

“Yeah?” Harry answered. “What is it?”

She grinned at him wickedly. “I’m not going to tell just yet. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Harry gave her a sated smile. “Ok, Ginny. Whatever you say.”

Ginny swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up. She laughed. “Merlin, my thighs are killing me.” She began gathering her clothes from the floor and started getting dressed.

Harry chuckled and decided not to attempt to get up. “Are you going back to the tower or do you want to stay here?”

“I think I’ll just go back to the tower. I don’t have any of my things here.”

Harry pouted. “You never stay here.”

“Do you really want to share me with all your dorm mates?” She cocked her head and propped her hands on her hips, smiling sweetly.

“ _What_? Ginny! No! What the fuck? Is that the thing you want to try at some point?” Harry was shocked.

“ _Harry_!” she said, grinning, “I didn’t mean like _that_. I meant in the morning; I don’t particularly fancy the idea of getting dressed along with a bunch of boys, one of them being my brother.”

Harry blushed. “Oh, right.” He gave a lopsided smile. He had become so used to her naughty way of thinking that his mind had provided him with a scenario he wasn’t the least bit interested in.

Ginny walked to the side of the bed and brushed Harry’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Goodnight Harry,” she said. “I really had a good time.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

“See,” Ginny said, smiling at him fondly, “talking is overrated.”

“Right,” Harry said. He had forgotten all about his initial wish to talk to her and not succumb to his teenage body urges. Now that he remembered, he couldn’t help scolding himself and feeling a mixture of both satisfaction and regret.

Ginny placed a soft kiss on his lips. “See you tomorrow.”

She opened the door to the common room and halted in the doorway. She turned around and looked at Harry, smirking. “I guess we should have put up that silencing charm after all.”

Harry groaned and pulled his covers up to cover his face. So typical.

Ginny chuckled and left.

Harry stayed hidden under the covers for a long time, pondering. He thought about how he had once again failed in having a normal conversation with his girlfriend, and he thought about how everyone in the common room, once again, knew a bit too much about Harry’s sex life than to his liking. But mostly he thought about the very disturbing images that had flooded his mind of his own cock pounding in and out of his very male arch enemy, as he had sex with his very hot and very female girlfriend.

Harry didn’t know how long he had been lying there when he heard the door opened. The sound of footsteps halted next to his bed, and Harry chanced a peak out from under the covers.

“Would it kill you to stay in _her_ room once in a while?”

“Sorry, Ron,” Harry said and emerged from hiding. “I would if I could, but you know the girls’ dorms in the tower kick us out if we try to enter.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot.”

“I really wish I could, though,” Harry said, frowning. “Then perhaps I’d actually be able to sleep with her.” Harry caught the look on his friend’s face and quickly added “ _just_ sleep. And wake up together. And talk and cuddle before we fall asleep.” He folded his hands behind his head and couldn’t help chuckling.

“What’s funny?” Ron asked.

“I really do sound like a girl.”

“Well, you’re a very masculine girl then,” Ron said. They both grinned.

“So…” Harry rolled on to his side and propped himself op on his elbow, resting his head in his hand. “How much did people hear?”

Ron shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Quite a lot. I don’t think there’s anyone in 7th year who doesn’t know what went on in here.”

Harry groaned and lay back on the bed again, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Tell me, Harry,” Ron said, “are you not familiar with any form of silencing charms?”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t want to cast one because I was planning to just talk tonight, and I thought that if I told her not to cast one, she would be less likely to try to seduce me. I guess I ought to know her better by now. I’ll cast one from now on no matter what we’re doing in here.”

“Thanks, mate,” Ron said and went to his bed to put on his pyjamas.

Harry went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then went back to bed and closed the curtains of the four poster. “Nox,” he whispered. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

 

Harry kept to himself Wednesday, for as much as was possible when you share a dorm with four other boys and a common room with thirty other students, having shared meals, shared classes and communal showers.

He was still upset about the fact that he had got off imagining fucking Malfoy in the arse and he was reluctant to having to spend time around him. He felt sure that Malfoy would somehow be able to tell, and that just would not do.

He sat with Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Neville at the meals as usual, trying to act natural and not give them any reason to go on about his so-called ‘obsession’ with Malfoy, but otherwise spent his time outside of classes in his dorm, save a quickie with Ginny in an empty bathroom on the fourth floor.

He dreaded Thursday’s Potions lessons.

After lunch, the trio headed for the dungeons.

Harry needn’t have worried; Malfoy pretty much ignored him for the entirety of class. By the end of class they had almost all their ingredients prepared and stored away in small boxes put neatly in a larger box in the store cabinet on the piece of shelf labelled ‘Potter-Malfoy’. The small boxes were labelled as well with their initials, the name of the ingredient (English _and_ Latin) and the date of preparation. It had generally been Malfoy who had stored the ingredients away at the end of class, so when Harry went to store away their cauldron and preparation tools, he couldn’t help chuckling.

Malfoy was coming up behind Harry with the ingredients of the day, also packed away in small boxes. “What are you laughing at, Potter?” he asked.

Harry couldn’t help grinning. “You’re a neat freak.”

“That’s hardly news. Is there a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Harry said, still grinning. “You just remind me of Hermione.”

Malfoy scowled. “Do not.”

“Do too. See you later, Malfoy.”

After supper Harry gave Ginny a peck on the lips and wished her and Neville a good study session. He then made to head for the dungeons. Unfortunately Malfoy chose that exact moment to leave the Great Hall as well, so they ended up walking down together. It was a very awkward experience.

“Good evening dear boys,” Slughorn said when they entered the Potions classroom. He patted Harry jovially on the back, and Harry blushed. He could almost sense Malfoy rolling his eyes. “Today you are going to collect Mugwort. Well, the pebbles you find around the Mugwort roots. There is a patch of Mugwort in the Forbidden Forest. And don’t worry, Mr. Malfoy: This time it is only about fifty yards in.” Slughorn chuckled.

Malfoy scowled and, knowing the reason for Malfoy’s dislike of the dark, Harry couldn’t blame him.

“Two jars should do,” Slughorn said.

They headed off over the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest. It was completely dark, and Harry could sense Malfoy’s reluctance as he slowed down his pace more and more. Harry wasn’t sure if Malfoy was even aware that he was slowing down, until he halted completely. Harry stopped as well. He could hear how Malfoy was trying to keep his breath under control.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to suggest that he serve the detention alone and Malfoy could just go back to the castle.

“Don’t you even think about suggesting it, Potter,” Malfoy said.

Harry looked at him in surprise. “What are you a mind reader?”

“No, you’re just utterly predictable,” Malfoy answered.

“Oh.” Harry didn’t think he was _that_ predictable.

They stood for a while, doing nothing, looking at the forest.

Suddenly an idea came to Harry. “You know, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Potions isn’t my strong suit.”

Malfoy scoffed. “You don’t say? I don’t know how that could have escaped my notice.”

“I know. I hide it well. Anyway, I have absolutely no clue what it is we’re collecting tonight and why, so maybe you could enlighten me. That is, if _you_ know, of course.”

Harry could feel Malfoy’s gaze on him, even though neither of them was able to see more than each other’s silhouettes.

“All right.” Malfoy began walking again and Harry followed suit. “Last week we collected fern spores to use in the potion we’re currently working on. Fern spores have the ability to help you see or at least become aware of the invisible. They are needed in this potion because their reaction with the chamomile flowers, which work as a natural relaxant, causes the user’s hidden desires to unveil. The chamomile flowers and fern spores enhance each other’s abilities, so that the fern spores help you identify your desires and the chamomile flowers help the mind relax and become both more receptive to them and more inclined to act on them. That means that even if the user might not be aware of what they desire the most, they will become aware when they drink the potion.”

“How can you not be aware of your desires?” Harry asked.

“Come on, Potter, I know that you are somewhat lacking when it comes to common knowledge but surely you must have heard about the subconscious.”

“Of course I have. Prick.”

“Wanker,” Malfoy retorted.

“I think that title fits you better,” Harry couldn’t resist saying. He immediately blushed and was thankful for the dark.

Harry was startled to hear Malfoy stifle a laugh.

“Yes, I guess it would.”

“So anyway,” Harry said, “Do you want to tell me about those rocks we’re getting today?”

“Pebbles,” Malfoy said. “I’m guessing you would like the simpler explanation?”

“Do you really need an answer to that?” Harry asked.

“Not really. The Mugwort is most commonly used in strength potions, protection potions and for prophetic purposes.”

“Why do we need it in this potion then?” Harry asked.

“We don’t,” Malfoy answered. “That was just a bit of bonus information. We need the _pebbles_ that lie _around_ the roots of the Mugwort. Put roughly; they help grant wishes when prepared correctly. There’s a far more thorough explanation and definition of their abilities, but I doubt your mind would be able to process it.”

“How do you prepare a rock,” Harry asked, ignoring the insult. To his surprise he was actually genuinely interested.

“A pebble. You crush it in the mortar. It needs to be crushed to really fine dust. It says in the recipe to sprinkle it in, but we’re not going to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the reaction will be much stronger if we add half an ounce of the lavender concoction and make it into a paste.”

“The recipe doesn’t mention anything about a lavender concoction. Only dried ground lavender.”

“You remember the recipe?” Malfoy asked. Harry could hear the tone of surprise in his voice.

“How could I not?” Harry asked. “You made me memorise it.”

“I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

“Yeah well, loathe as I am to admit it; when it comes to potions I’ve decided to just do as you tell me.”

“That’s a little out of character is it not? Mr. Potter?” Harry could hear the smile in Malfoy’s voice.

“Shut up,” Harry said but wasn’t able to sound angry rather than amused.

Malfoy chuckled. “And he’s back.”

Harry smiled to himself.

Without noticing, they had reached their destination and Malfoy conjured pillows for them both to kneel on, and they began searching the earth for pebbles.

“That was actually surprisingly interesting,” Harry admitted.

“You know,” Malfoy said. “You almost sound like you mean that.”

“I do.”

They continued roaming through the earth in silence.

“Thank you,” Malfoy said after a while.

Harry didn’t need to ask to know that Malfoy was thanking Harry for distracting him on their way into the forest. “No problem,” he answered.

“You really are intent on being saviour of all aren’t you,” Malfoy said, not really making it sound like a question.

“I’m no-one’s saviour,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

Again, they resolved to silence.

“I thought there was a prophecy that said that you –,“ Malfoy began.

“Where did you –“ Harry said, wondering how Malfoy would know about that.

“Some voices carry,” Malfoy said. “I heard them discussing it at some point.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, there was. There is. But so far, I’ve never saved anybody. The only thing I’ve succeeded in in regards to Voldemort is getting other people into trouble. Or killed.”

Harry heard Malfoy gasp as he said Voldemort’s name, but he didn’t want to apologise, and Malfoy didn’t comment further.

“I know you get into trouble all the time, but I find it hard to believe that you actually got other people killed, Potter,” Malfoy said.

“I did,” Harry said. He kept on digging for pebbles. “First and foremost; I got my parents killed. Then I killed Quirrel in our 1st year. Personally. By hand. And had Ron seriously injured. In 2nd year the corporal memory of Tom Riddle kidnapped Ginny trying to get to me and she almost died. In 3rd year I let Peter Pettigrew get away, which meant that we wouldn’t be able to clear Sirius’ name after all. And in our 4th year Pettigrew went and helped Voldemort return by taking my blood when I was kidnapped to the graveyard. If it hadn’t been for me Cedric wouldn’t even have been there. I should have just snatched the cup myself. But he was. And I didn’t. And I got Cedric killed. Adding to that, Voldemort’s using my blood was what helped him regain both a body and his true former power. So really, his return is my fault. In 5th year I was too stubborn to let Snape teach me Occlumency, which caused Voldemort to be able to put fake visions in my head of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mystery and lure me to the ministry, where your aunt killed him. And he had only come because he found out I’d gone there. And last year, Dumbledore…” Harry felt his breath hitch.

“There is no way you are going to be able to blame yourself for that one,” Malfoy interrupted.

Harry stopped his pebble search and sat back on his heels. He looked down. “I had been… somewhere – with Dumbledore that evening. Dumbledore had to… do something that weakened him, and… we got in trouble and I panicked and forgot how to repel… something, and Dumbledore had to do it and that weakened him even more. And then we got to the Astronomy Tower, and suddenly Lucius was there. And I was wearing my invisibility cloak, and Dumbledore petrified me. Literally. And because he was so weak he wasn’t able to react to anything else before Lucius had disarmed and killed him.” He quieted. “And I couldn’t help him. I just stood there,” he said quietly, almost to himself as an afterthought.

Malfoy had stopped searching for pebbles as well. “You can hardly be blamed for just standing there when you were petrified. If we need to play the blame game, I really think we should pin that one on me. I had plenty of chances to tell someone other than Dumbledore what was going on – someone who would actually _do_ something about it – and I didn’t.”

“I did blame you, for a while,” Harry said. “I don’t think I do anymore.”

They had filled both jars and got up to walk back to the castle.

“No, now you just blame yourself. You know you really need to stop being so egotistical.”

Harry frowned. “Egotistical?”

“Yes. You are trying to take credit for the rise of evil all by yourself.”

Harry was unsure as how to react. He was feeling a mixture of anger, sadness and amusement. In the end, he let amusement win and Harry laughed. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Malfoy answered. “You know, you really need to learn how to share, Mr. Potter.”

Harry laughed again. “Well I’ll have to teach myself a lesson then, won’t I, Mr. Malfoy?”

Malfoy made a sound that resembled a mix of a snort, a snicker and a laugh.

“Was that an almost-laugh, Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“It most certainly was not. It was an undefined sound.”

Harry chuckled, and they walked in silence until they reached the castle.

“I can put those in the ingredients cabinet,” Harry offered as they entered the front hall.

“I’ll come along, it’s no trouble,” Malfoy said.

As they walked back to the common room, having stored the ingredients, something dawned on Harry. “You know, Malfoy, we actually had a real conversation tonight.”

“Yes, well, don’t get deluded or something. It doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Malfoy said.

“No, but it does lessen the urge to punch you in the face.”

“I really wish I could say the same, Potter,” Malfoy said as they climbed through the portrait hole.

Harry chuckled, earning a frown from Ron and Hermione who were sitting in front of the fire. It was past midnight, so Harry assumed they had probably been waiting for him to return to hear about his detention. However, Harry ignored their frowns and headed for his dorm. “’Night, Malfoy,” he said. “’Night, Hermione. Ron.”

“Freak,” Malfoy answered, but there was no animosity in his voice.

“Ferret,” Harry answered, his lips quirking upwards.

Harry slept well that night.


	6. Boiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is the first to refuse a dare

Draco was in a good mood Friday. Confused, but good. He had been surprised that the detention the evening prior hadn’t been awful and even more surprised that it had actually been almost pleasant as far as detentions went. Potter had actually seemed like a normal person and relatively easy to talk to. And sort of funny. He had been annoyingly considerate about the whole darkness thing, but Draco was pleased that he hadn’t made a big deal out of it. He had actually been rather inventive about distracting Draco by getting him to talk about something Draco found interesting. Adding to that; even though it was probably just good acting skills on Potter’s part, he had even seemed interested in what Draco had to say. Also, when Potter had ranted on about blaming himself for the deaths of several people, Draco had been able to make him laugh. What felt odd to Draco, was that it had pleased him to make Potter laugh. He had a nice laugh, which had made Draco’s stomach do an odd sort of flip flop that was unfamiliar to him but not entirely unpleasant, though he wasn’t sure that it shouldn’t be cause of alarm.

He had caught both Blaise and Pansy eyeing him weirdly several times when they had caught him humming. They hadn’t said anything but Draco had found it prudent to put on a sneer and stop humming every time, although he always seemed to begin again without noticing.

He really thought they ought to just be happy that he was in a good mood.

Friday evening brought on another game of truth or dare along with the obligatory firewhiskey, this time complimentary of Hufflepuff.

Finnigan and Blaise had offered the Weaselette that she could participate as well rather than head for her own common room as the games were about to begin. She seemed eager to play, and the general opinion was that she should be allowed. The last two Fridays had, after all been entertaining, largely due to her and Potter. So she sat down between Blaise and Boot and blew a kiss in Potter’s direction. He just glared at her and ignored it.

Before the game began, Granger announced that she had developed the spell she mentioned working on to make sure they would answer truthfully but also give them the opportunity to not answer. As she put it: ‘ _that way they would avoid another unfortunate incident like the one last Friday_ ’, obviously referring to the Potter-Weasley incident.

Granger cast the spell on all of them, and the games began.

About an hour into the game one or the other of the Patil twins called on Potter, who picked dare.

“I dare you to snog Malfoy -“ Draco rolled his eyes. They really were predictable. “- while sitting in his lap. Straddling, you know?”

Okay, so that one was new. Potter looked equally surprised at the last bit, with the straddling.

“For how long?” Potter asked.

“I think thirty seconds should do,” the Patil twin said.

Potter crawled over to Draco’s spot at the circle. “Um, so how should we do this?”

Pink tinged Draco’s cheeks. “I’ll just sit like this, I think, and you can just, you know, climb on top of me.” He was embarrassed by the facts that the pink had changed into a full blush, he was inarticulate and his voice was cracking. Adding to that, he was concerned as to how his body would react.

Potter was blushing as well as he straddled Draco who was sitting cross-legged. Draco noticed with relief that Potter was trying to position himself in a manner that would avoid or minimize contact of certain body parts.

“Come on Harry, you can do better than that,” the Weaselette said. “Scoot in. Press your chests against each other.”

Potter, if possible, turned even redder as he obliged his girlfriend and scooted upwards to straddle the top of Draco’s thighs.

“Didn’t think you would take orders from Ms. Weasley, Mr. Potter,” Draco whispered in an attempt to ease the tension.

“Shut up,” Potter hissed quietly.

“Is that the only order you’re capable of giving, Mr. Potter?”

Potter looked at Draco in surprise, then smirked as he whispered. “Kiss me, Mr. Malfoy.”

Despite himself and the situation, Draco had to suppress a snicker. He almost managed to. But as Potter realised that the sounds coming from Draco were snickers in disguise, he began snickering as well, and soon they were both grinning and snickering, earning confused looks from their fellow 7th years and one 6th year.

“What’s so funny?” the Patil twin asked. “Get on with it, would you?”

“Yes Padma,” Potter grinned.

Okay, so _Padma_ Patil. Ravenclaw, Draco thought.

They were both still grinning as Draco reached up to take off Potter’s glasses. The last thing Draco saw before he tilted his head upwards, parted his lips and closed his eyes, were Potters emerald green eyes very close to his. They had flecks of gold and golden-brown in them and were really very entrancing.

Then he felt Potter’s lips on his and soon his tongue, gently tracing Draco’s lower lip. It was just as amazing as the last two times, and Draco, once again, lost himself in the moment. It didn’t matter very much as Potter seemed to do so as well. The only problem was that the lack or loss of control meant that Draco soon felt his cock stirring. Luckily, he could also feel Potter’s cock growing. Well, obviously not lucky in the sense that he was lucky to have Potter’s erect cock pressed against his own, but more in the sense that it was lucky Draco wasn’t the only one. Draco could feel Potter beginning to grind as the kiss intensified, and Draco met his movements. It was causing wonderful friction.

Suddenly and completely without warning he heard Potter exclaim a loud “ _Ow, fuck_ ”, and he felt Potter’s weight disappear from on top of him. He quickly pulled his knees up in order to hide his erection, but everyone’s attention was on Potter who was lying curled up on the floor and clasping his back. He got up soon after, though and quickly climbed back to his own spot in the circle, more or less successfully covering up his crotch with his knees.

“What the _fuck_ , Ginny?” He looked angrily at the Weaselette, who looked at him defiantly.

“What? The time was up,” she said and shrugged.

Potter blushed. “But honestly, Ginny. A Stinging Hex? Couldn’t you have just poked me or something?”

“This was easier,” the Weaselette said. “Plus, I don’t particularly enjoy having to break apart my boyfriend and the man he’s snogging rather enthusiastically. Again. It really shouldn’t be my responsibility.”

“Well then how about; don’t do it?” Potter said and then immediately looked horrified. Several of their classmates laughed, as Potter, the idiot, had made it sound like he wanted them to continue kissing.

The Weaselette raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?” She said.

“That came out wrong.”

“I should hope so,” she said.

“Right,” Granger interrupted. “Moving on! Harry, it’s your turn.”

The game continued, and as Draco had suspected, the Weaselette set out some unexpected dares, one of them being that Potter snog Granger for twenty seconds. Why she wanted to see her boyfriend snog another girl was beyond Draco. He could understand that she might be okay with it if the dare was set by someone else, but to set the dare herself was downright weird, he thought. And furthermore; it was Granger, who was supposed to be a friend of both Potter and the Weaselette, and who was most likely the soon-to-be-girlfriend of the Weaselette’s own brother if he would just man up.

Malfoy was sitting nearly opposite Potter, and he could see his jaw clenching. He was clearly annoyed with his girlfriend.

Potter looked at Weasley as if asking permission, and when he shrugged, Potter moved closer to Granger. Finnigan had become the unofficial time-setter, and as Potter’s and Granger’s lips met and the snogging began, he set the time to count down from twenty seconds.

The kiss was devoid of passion to say the least. They were both sitting back on their heels with their hands in their laps. Their _own_ laps, and as the timer beeped, they drew apart.

“Well that was boring,” the Weaselette stated when both Potter and Granger were back in their respective seats in the circle. “You were much more passionate last time, Harry. But then again; that was with a different partner.” There was the sound of snickering and giggling in the circle.

“Shut up, Ginny,” Potter said. “Ron, truth or dare?”

Weasley picked dare.

“I dare you to sit with Hermione’s head in your lap for the rest of the game, nuzzling her hair.”

Weasley blushed but looked grateful, as did Granger, and they settled in. They both looked decidedly comfortable, and Draco got the strangest urge to smile. He managed to hold it in, though. It wouldn’t do to make Blaise and Pansy worry even more about his too-happy demeanour.

At some point, as the evening had progressed and more firewhiskey had been consumed, Pansy dared Potter to finger Granger. He blanched and looked at Granger lying in his friend’s lap. Both she and Weasley had blanched as well.

“No!” he said without hesitation.

“Harry it’s all right,” the Weaselette said, grinning. “You needn’t refuse the dare on my account.”

“I’m not,” Potter said sharply and looked at Pansy. “I refuse to do it. I pick the boils.”

“Harry, you’re insane,” the Weaselette interrupted. “We’re not going to be able to have sex till next Friday if your arse is full of boils. You’ll be in too much pain to move.”

“I don’t care. I’m not doing it.”

“Quit being ridiculous, Harry,” she continued. “It’s really not that big a deal. You don’t even have to do it in the common room. You can go to one of the dorms for all I care.”

“It’s interesting to know that you feel that way, but it is to me. And I’m quite certain that it is to Hermione: Your friend. And to Ron: Your brother.” He turned his attention back to Pansy. “I refuse to do the dare, Parkinson. And I choose the boils.”

“No he doesn’t, Parkinson,” the Weaselette said, outraged. “Harry for fuck’s sake; just do it. Quit being so fucking noble all the time.”

Potter didn’t even look in the Weaselette’s direction, but addressed Pansy instead. “Parkinson, if you don’t cast that hex somewhere in the next five seconds, I _will_ hex you, and you should know that I learned this very nasty hex just the other night, which produces really bad body odour in _very_ unfortunate places.”

Potter looked positively ominous and there was no doubt in Draco’s mind that he was serious. Apparently Pansy seemed to think so too, because she didn’t hesitate but cast the hex immediately. Potter suddenly got a very pained expression and stood up.

Granger stood up as well, her eyes looking glassy. She hugged him tight and said quietly: “Thank you, Harry. I’ll make some essence of Murtlap for you.”

“No problem, Hermione. There are few things I wouldn’t do for you,” Potter said fondly.

The Weaselette clearly thought that there was something wrong with that statement, which Draco couldn’t really blame her. She was positively fuming.

“It must be rubbing off sharing a common room with a bunch of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors – and Ravenclaws though they’re not nearly as bad as the other two – ,” Pansy said, “but I do believe you deserve something for your valour, so I made it so that the boils wear off Thursday at midnight instead of Friday evening. Or you could say that it is out of pity, because I feel sorry for you for your idiocy,” she added as an afterthought.

“That’s not fair,” Draco interjected. “The rules clearly said a week, Pansy. You ought to redo it.”

“Caster’s choice, darling,” Pansy answered. “I fulfil the terms of Friday to Friday by making it Thursday by midnight.”

Draco scowled. He thought it was a clear breach of regulations to reduce the punishment like that.

“Why thank you, Parkinson,” Potter said, “That was very sweet of you. Now, if you will all excuse me – I think I will go to bed. I’m finding it rather difficult to sit down.”

Potter gave a pleasant smile and took a small bow and their fellow 7th years cheered and applauded, what with Potter being the first to choose to take the punishment rather than the dare. Draco had to hand it to him for theatrics.

Potter was walking slowly and stiffly and Draco couldn’t help snickering. He saw the Weaselette observe Potter as he left. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him.

As the door to the Gryffindor dorm slammed shut, Blaise turned to the Weaselette. “There, there, Weasley. It’s only one week, and if you feel you can’t manage to wait, you will always be welcome to share my bed.”

The sly bastard snaked his hand to rest on her thigh as if comforting her and the Weaselette smirked at him. Draco suspected she might actually take him up on the offer if Potter ignored her for too long. He was sitting opposite Granger who had been sitting next to Potter. She was watching the Weaselette warily, and Draco got the feeling that she shared his suspicion. Granger looked in Draco’s direction and they locked eyes. They looked at each other for quite some time, both with a blank expression. Draco looked away first. When he looked in Granger’s direction again, she was lying with her head in Weasley’s lap again, eyes closed and him stroking her hair.

Draco got the feeling that something significant had just happened between him and Granger, although he couldn’t say what. He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

The game progressed for a while still. Draco was dared by Abbott to give Granger a neck rub, and she sat down in front of him, a little hesitantly, as he dared a Patil twin to snog Brown. That was cause for a combination of cheers, snickers, giggles and wolf whistles. Draco didn’t really see the big deal so he just concentrated on Granger’s neck rub. As it happened, Draco had given his mother several calming massages due to whatever his father and the other Death Eaters put her through, and he had become quite skilful. Indeed, Granger had begun relaxing as he rubbed her shoulders, neck and skull, and she was making little purring noises that were probably only audible to Draco. Draco lost himself in thoughts about his mother all alone in the big, spooky house with no-one for company other than the creepy house elf Kreacher and his own less creepy but rather meddling house elf Bilbo. He really ought to write her more often.

Draco’s focus was drawn back to the game as Boot addressed him.

“Truth or dare, Malfoy?”

Draco chose dare.

“I dare you to snog Weasley,” Boot said, then quickly added: “the female one. For thirty seconds.”

Draco heard the male Weasley let out a sigh of relief similar to the one Draco let out.

Granger made a sound of objection as he removed his hands from her skull where he was currently directing his attention.

“There, there, Granger,” he said, patting her on the shoulders. “You just go back to Weasley and continue getting your hair tousled. Merlin knows it can hardly get any messier.”

Granger didn’t respond to the insult but turned around as she stood up. “Thank you, Malfoy. That was a very lovely neck rub.” She smiled at him and went to put her head in Weasley’s lap again.

“Well, get over here, Malfoy,” the Weaselette demanded, and Draco reluctantly moved across the circle to position himself in front of her. It felt wrong; very, very wrong. And it wasn’t the fact that she was a Weasley though that certainly didn’t help the matter, even though, loathe as he was to admit it, she really was very attractive. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made him uneasy. All he knew was that he really did not want to snog her.

She smirked at him and leaned in. Draco pinched his eyes shut and leaned in as well. The Weaselette seemed very enthusiastic, Draco thought, and he kept sitting back on his heels with his hands in his lap. He wondered if he should be concerned that he would rather kiss her boyfriend than her but decided that he could think about that some other time. Or preferably never.

He felt the Weaselette deepen the kiss and begin to inch closer to him. She took hold of his shoulders and ran her hands down his arms and up to rest on his shoulders again. She had a firm grip. She stood on her knees and began sliding her arms around his neck and back as if trying to embrace him. It was made awkward by the fact that Draco wasn’t responding to her advances, and kept sitting unmoving as she began climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. She leaned in, pressing her breasts against him, and he placed his palms on her shoulders, trying to hold her at a distance. As the Weaselette removed her hands from his back and neck, ran them down his sides and grabbed his arse, his eyes flew open and darted around the room, and for some reason landed on Granger who was looking at him intently with a puzzled frown. He was desperate for the alarm to sound.

“Almost time,” Granger said as if trying to console him. Which obviously wasn’t the case, because that would be plain weird. Also, Granger shouldn’t be thinking that Draco needed consolation in the first place. She should be thinking that Draco was revelling in the opportunity of kissing Potter’s girlfriend. Because Draco didn’t like Potter, and kissing Potter’s girlfriend would seem like a fitting thing to do to make that clear.

Finally, the alarm sounded, and Draco broke the kiss immediately, quickly scooting back to his own spot in the circle.

The Weaselette raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What, no passionate encore for me? Or does that solely benefit Harry?”

“Jealous of your boyfriend, Weaselette?” Draco asked.

She glared at him and sat down.

Over the course of the evening the She-Weasel was dared to kiss several other of the 7th year boys; Blaise, Finnigan, Smith, Thomas, Boot, Longbottom and Blaise again because that one had been very passionate and thus very entertaining, according to the majority of the participants. During their first kiss, she had straddled Blaise as she had Draco, and Blaise had been somewhat more receptive, to say the least: He had grabbed her arse and squeezed it tight and slid one hand under her shirt and up and down her back. On their second kiss, she straddled him again, and he grabbed her arse in return and once again slid his hand under her shirt. Only this time he slid it onto her stomach and up to grab her tit, which she clearly enjoyed. Just then the alarm rang, and they broke apart, panting. Blaise was still holding on to her arse and tit.

Weasley cleared his throat loudly, and Blaise removed his hands, taking his time. They each sat back, and the Weaselette winked at Blaise. Weasley narrowed his eyes and glowered at both his sister and Blaise. Draco could see his jaw twitch.

Draco didn’t know why, but it bothered him that the Weaselette was taking such obvious enjoyment in kissing other people when her boyfriend was lying in the next room with boils in his arse. She ought to be consoling him and not fooling around with other blokes.

“I hate to be the one to point this out, Weaselette, but isn’t your boyfriend lying in pain in a room right next to this? Shouldn’t you be consoling him and his poor arse rather than fooling around with Merlin knows how many other blokes?” Draco asked.

“Exactly!” Weasley (the male one) exclaimed and nodded fiercely. “Thank you, Malfoy.” He raised his eyebrows at his sister.

Draco got the feeling of being in opposite-world, where he was bothered about ethics and was thanked by Weasley. It was disconcerting.

“Since when are you bothered about stuff like that, Draco?” Blaise asked.

Draco didn’t answer.

“Seems to me we have a pot-and-kettle situation here,” the Weaselette pointed out. “As far as I recall he was doing the exact same thing last Friday.”

“That hardly qualifies as the same thing,” Draco said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Really,” the Weaselette said, also folding her arms, and raising her brows. “How so?”

“Well, for one; he was kissing someone from the same sex. You weren’t. And adding to that, your arse wasn’t covered in boils, so there was no need for him to feel sorry for you. Besides, you weren’t even in the room when we began kissing.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I wasn’t in the room when it started, but it was me who had to practically tear the two of you apart since you were so absorbed in each other you didn’t even notice a hooting alarm. And so what if it was someone from the same sex or not? For all I know he could be bi. You could too. Or gay.” Draco snorted. “And regarding the boils; it’s not my fault he’s too prissy to do something like that on a dare. If you’re so interested in the well-being of his arse, _you_ go nurse it.”

“What’s it to you anyway, Malfoy?” Weasley asked. “You don’t even like him.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have moral standards.” Draco answered, which made Blaise snort.

Draco didn’t know why he was acting the way he was and saying the things he did, because the Weasel was right: He didn’t like Potter. He didn’t. Maybe his moral standards really had heightened, and that made him resent the Weaselette’s behaviour. For now, he would go with that explanation.

The Weaselette stood up. “I think I had my kicks for the evening,” she said. “Good night everyone. This was interesting.” She walked across the circle and continued through the common room. “Give Harry a kiss for me, would you, Ron?” she said as she went through the portrait hole.

Weasley blushed and got up as well. “I think I’ll go to bed, too. Good night everybody.” He turned and went to the dormitory.

Draco left for his dorm as well. Theo was already sleeping. He didn’t participate in the games but preferred to sit quietly reading. A short while after, Blaise, Vince and Greg entered the room, too.

“What, no more games?” Draco asked as he pulled on his pyjamas.

“Sort of ended,” Blaise said. “People started heading to bed.”

Draco didn’t answer but lay down on his bed under the covers. Shortly after, Vince and Greg did as well and soon their snores were heard easily in the quiet room.

“So…” Blaise began. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” Draco asked.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what.”

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “It really was very weird, wasn’t it?”

“It was indeed,” Blaise agreed. He was lying on his bed, still dressed.

They lay in silence for a while.

“I hope you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, and that that is the reason you’re not in your pyjamas yet,” Draco said.

Blaise grinned. “She really is a saucy little minx that one, isn’t she?”

“I don’t think you should do it,” Draco said.

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything,” Blaise said. “I just said I think she’s saucy.” He smirked.

Draco didn’t answer and they lay in silence for a while again.

“Are you going to tell him?” Blaise asked.

“No,” Draco said and turned to lie on his side. “It’s not my thing to tell.”

“Good. I don’t want to be on the wrong end of that short temper of his.”

“Then perhaps it would be wise to not do anything for him to lose his temper over,” Draco said.

“One could argue that point,” Blaise admitted.

“He does throw a mean punch,” Draco said.

“Yeah, you would know,” Blaise chuckled quietly.

Draco snorted and they resolved to silence once more.

“Are you going to wish me good luck on my endeavours?” Blaise asked eventually.

“No,” Draco said.

“Why not? You know, Draco, you’re really acting out of sorts. Is something the matter?” Blaise sounded genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know,” Draco answered. “I _feel_ out of sorts. I must be getting ill.”

“Yes,” Blaise said hesitantly. “That must be it.”

“Good night,” Draco said. He flicked his wand, closing the drapes, and closed his eyes. On the other side of the curtains he heard rustling and then the door opening and closing.

*

Harry woke several times during the night from Friday to Saturday. The boils were big and excruciatingly painful. They were the size of a snitch and would burst when put under too much pressure. One might have thought that that would be beneficial in the long run, as the boils would eventually all puncture and disappear. However, the boils regrew every time, so there was never any relief. He was looking immensely forward to when Hermione would have the essence of Murtlap ready for him.

He blamed Ginny. He knew that wasn’t fair as it wasn’t she who had set the dare and she had, in fact, tried to discourage him from choosing them. He just felt the need to blame her for something. If not the boils, then her absolutely unacceptable behaviour. What on earth was she on about trying to get him to finger Hermione? That was just not normal behaviour. And not just because she was Harry’s girlfriend. Hermione was supposed to be Ginny’s friend. It was just not normal to want someone to finger your friends when said friend obviously did not want to be fingered. Harry thought she was becoming more and more erratic. He wondered if, perhaps, she was cursed. And although he didn’t want her to have been cursed by anybody, he sort of hoped she was as it might be able to explain her behaviour over the last couple of weeks.

Saturday morning Hermione told him that she wouldn’t be able to have the Essence of Murtlap ready for him until Sunday evening as she needed to pickle the tentacles, and Harry spent the weekend in his bed on his stomach or standing still in the dorm. Even walking the small distance to the common room was extremely painful.

His dorm mates made sure that he wasn’t left alone in the dorm and either all sat there, chatting or playing chess and exploding snap, or one or two of them kept him company. They took turns going to breakfast, lunch and supper and brought back food and drink for Harry.

Ginny went to see him once on Saturday afternoon and lay down next to him on the bed.

“Poor you,” she said, her eyes full of pity. She kissed his cheek and scooted closer.

Harry smiled weakly. “Did you enjoy the rest of the game?”

“I did,” she said. “I had to kiss Malfoy, though. I don’t know what it is you see in him.”

“I don’t see anything in him,” Harry said indignantly.

“Right,” Ginny said sceptically.

“I don’t,” Harry repeated.

“What was all that giggling about?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“That wasn’t giggling,” Harry said. “It was snickering.”

“Well, giggles, snickers; it was weird whatever you choose to call it. Do you have some sort of private joke?”

Harry briefly pondered if he should just tell her; she might find it amusing. He quickly discarded the thought, though. “It just seemed funny all of a sudden.”

Ginny was still frowning but then shook her head lightly and smoothed her expression.

“He was very concerned about the well-being of your arse.”

“He was?” Harry asked.

“Yes. He thought I should rather be coddling you than continue playing with the others.”

“Huh. That was… considerate of him.” Harry’s stomach did an odd sort of flutter.

“It was,” Ginny said.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the game, though,” Harry said, as he let his fingers trace her thigh, going upwards. “You know, it doesn’t hurt when I move my arm.”

“Really?” Ginny grinned and scooted closer still.

“Really,” Harry said. His hand had reached the edge of her skirt.

Ginny parted her legs slightly, giving Harry access. He tugged at her panties, and she helped pull them down to her mid-thigh. Ginny closed her eyes and her lips parted, as Harry brushed two fingers over her clit and entered her. He moved them slowly in and out of her, all the while rubbing her clit. He picked up pace and it didn’t take long before her breath became shallow, and she let out her small moans. Harry smiled as he watched her come. As she opened her eyes he pulled out his fingers and wiped them on his shirt.

“Thanks.” Ginny grinned at him. Would you like me to do you?”

“I would,” Harry said and sent her a small smile. “Unfortunately this is the only position it’s possible for me to be in right now, so it will have to wait at least until Hermione provides the essence of Murtlap. Then we’ll see.”

“Okay then,” Ginny said. She lay back on her back, folded her hands and rested them on her stomach. She stared up, focussing on nothing in particular. She sighed.

“Is something the matter, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked without looking at him.

“Well, you’ve been acting sort of moody for the last couple of weeks. And out of character. It’s like you’re not happy.”

“Out of character?” she repeated.

“Yeah, I mean; it’s like I can’t do anything right. And even if we both start off in a good mood, we always manage to get into a fight anyway. And that thing last night – what the hell was that about?”

“What thing last night?”

“You know; you daring me to snog Hermione for one. I mean, I can see how you might be okay with it if someone else set the dare. But to do it yourself? That was… unexpected. But honestly, you practically begging me to finger fuck your own friend, the woman your brother is in love with… That wasn’t okay, Ginny.”

“So you’re angry with me for not wanting my boyfriend to go for a week with painful boils in his arse?”

Harry sighed. “Of course not, Ginny. But I’m shocked that you would want to let something like that happen to your friend. She clearly didn’t want it. “

“So? _She_ could have refused the dare and taken the punishment.”

“Ginny! You’re being unreasonable now. I can’t believe you would let that happen, just so you wouldn’t have to go without sex for a week. That’s just extremely selfish, Ginny.”

“Who says I have to go without sex for a week?” Ginny mumbled.

Harry’s stomach clenched. They were quiet for a while.

“Ginny, did something else happen last night after I’d gone to bed that I should know about?” Harry asked quietly.

Ginny rolled over and looked at him. She smiled. “No. I have to go now. I promised I’d meet Luna.” She pecked him on the cheek and got off the bed.

“Are you coming over later?” Harry asked.

“Don’t think so,” Ginny said. “You’re no fun today, being all moody and incapable of having sex.”

Harry huffed in annoyance. “Why does everything with you have to be about sex? Why can’t we just have a normal conversation once in a while like a normal couple?”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “You’re complaining about the amount of sex we have?”

“No,” Harry answered. “But I would like to talk to you once in a while as well. Really talk.”

She smiled at him. “You know, Harry; you’re very masculine in general, and very sexy, and hot as hell… But sometimes, you really act like a girl.” She blew a kiss at him. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

Harry let out a deep sigh. “Well, if being capable of having sex is the criteria for you to come see me, you probably shouldn’t come tomorrow either.”

Ginny’s smile faltered. “Fine. Whatever. See you Monday then.”

Harry let out another sigh as the door closed behind her.

Soon after, Ron and Neville entered the dorm and both sat down on the bed opposite Harry’s. “Did you fight again?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “Did she say anything?”

“No, just stormed out. She looked angry.”

“What did you fight about?” Neville asked.

Harry didn’t speak.

“Come on, mate,” Ron said. “Better out than in.”

Harry looked at Ron. “Are you sure you want to know, Ron? I mean, it’s your sister. Shouldn’t you be angry with me for upsetting her?”

Ron shrugged. “Probably. But she’s been acting weird lately, and I don’t think it would be fair to blame you for being angry with her over that, when it’s actually quite justified.”

Harry smiled at his friends.

“So what did you fight about?” Neville asked again.

“Last night,” Harry said, and both Ron and Neville nodded in understanding. “I told her I couldn’t believe she would be okay with me doing that to Hermione. Especially since it was quite obvious that Hermione didn’t want it either. Then she said that Hermione could have taken the punishment instead, and I got angry with her and told her I thought it was selfish of her to want to let that happen just so she wouldn’t have to go a week without sex.”

“I bet she took that well,” Ron said.

“Not particularly,” Harry said. “She indicated that she wouldn’t have to go without sex for a week.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Harry frowned and looked his friends in the eyes. “Guys, did something happen last night that I should know about? I mean, she told me she had to kiss Malfoy and that she didn’t like it, but I got the feeling there’s something she was holding back.”

Ron and Neville glanced at each other nervously and didn’t say anything.

“Guys, _please_ ,” Harry said. “I need to know if there’s something I should be aware of.”

“Are we speaking frankly, Harry?” Neville finally asked.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Please.”

“She had to kiss a lot of boys,” Neville said. “Malfoy was just one of them. And I think the reason she didn’t enjoy it was that he was trying to push her away when she tried to deepen it.”

“He did?” Harry asked. “Why would he do that?”

“Don’t know,” Ron said. “And at the end of the games he completely flipped at her saying she ought to be in here feeling sorry for you and comforting you, instead of out in the common room snogging everybody.”

“He said that?” Harry’s stomach did that odd fluttering thing again.

“Yeah,” Neville said. “They got into a real argument about it and in the end she left. It was weird.”

“So that’s what Ginny meant when she said he was concerned about the well-being of my arse.”

“Yeah,” Neville said.

“So… How many did she have to kiss?”

Neville blushed and Ron looked up as if trying to count.

“Six,” he finally said. “Besides Malfoy.”

“Six?” That was quite a bit more than Harry had thought. “Who?”

Neville blushed again. “Zabini twice, Terry Boot, Zacharias Smith, Seamus and Dean.” Harry frowned. He only counted five. “And me,” Neville added, looking down.

“Oh,” was all Harry was able to get out. “Why Zabini twice?”

“Well,” Neville said, grateful that Harry hadn’t dwelled further on the fact that he was among the boys to have kissed his girlfriend. “The first one with Zabini was rather… intense. People found it entertaining, and Smith dared her to do it again.”

“Fucking Smith,” Harry said, scowling.

“Agreed,” Ron said.

“So, you said the first one was intense. How about the second one?” Harry asked, and he did not like the red colour that immediately covered Ron’s face.

Neville cringed. “That was even more intense. Still speaking frankly?”

“Yes!” Harry said, almost desperately.

“They were swallowing each other. And he had his hand up her blouse. In the front. And they took their time letting go of each other when the alarm sounded.”

“ _Fuck_!” Harry exclaimed and winced as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. “Oh my god, she’s going to cheat on me. With _Zabini_. How could she?”

“ _Hey_!” Ron said, not wanting to hear his sister slighted.

“Now, let’s just calm down. Nothing has happened yet,” Neville said, raising his hands to calm the two other boys.

“ _Yet_?” Harry asked, sounding rather panicky. “Oh no no no, I have to go find her and have sex with her. I can’t let that happen.” He tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed but failed miserably as one of the boils burst painfully. He groaned.

“Harry, relax,” Ron said, laying his hand on Harry’s back to comfort him. “Of course she’s not going to do anything.” He glared at Neville. “Don’t scare him like that you idiot.”

“Sorry.” Neville looked down.

“She’s not going to do anything. She’s been pining for you for six years, and now she has you. Why would she want to throw that away?”

Harry relaxed a bit. “I guess you’re right.”

“Maybe you can talk to her tomorrow,” Neville suggested.

“I told her not to come if the only reason she would was to have sex.”

“Oh,” Neville said, and he and Ron looked at each other.

“Well, maybe she’ll come anyway,” Ron suggested.

“She won’t,” Harry said. He was certain of it. “I need to turn my head the other way. My neck is getting sore,” he said and turned his head away from them. He could tell they were still there, not wanting to leave him alone. “Do you think… Do you think it’s possible that she’s been cursed?”

“Cursed?” both Ron and Neville asked.

“Yeah, I mean – what if she’s been cursed – imperioed or something like that and that’s why she’s been acting crazy.”

“Harry, whatever you do – don’t suggest that to Ginny,” Ron said. “I’ll ask Hermione what she thinks but, personally, I don’t find it likely. I mean, who would have done it? And why?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Ron lifted his finger. “And don’t say Malfoy, Harry. He was already forced to admit he wasn’t up to something.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Harry said honestly. “I was going to say Zabini. And I think the reason should be obvious.”

“Harry –” Neville said seriously. “– cursing people like that is very likely illegal, even if it’s not an Unforgivable. There’s no way he would take a risk like that. Besides, he’s a very good looking bloke – I’m sure he doesn’t need curses to get what he wants.”

“ _Neville_!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, and my sister. You’re really not helping, mate.”

Neville blushed. “I didn’t mean Ginny. I meant that he wouldn’t have to curse her because he had no problems getting what he needs from other girls. And boys for that matter. I hear he’s bi.”

“Zabini?” Harry asked and snorted. “Expanding the field probably. Twice as many options. Typical Slytherin.”

Ron snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

Harry turned his head again to look at them. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Both Ron and Neville frowned.

“Well, since you’re bi too,” Neville said.

“I most certainly am not,” Harry said indignantly.

“Right,” Ron said sceptically. “That isn’t exactly the impression one gets when you’re getting off kissing Malfoy. And then last night. I mean, you were practically dry-humping each other.”

“Yeah,” Neville butted in. “And what was with all the giggling?”

“ _It was not giggling_ ,” Harry said for the second time that day. “It was a very manly snicker. The whole situation just suddenly seemed very funny. Sort of.”

Ron snorted. “Having fun with Malfoy. What will be next?”

“He actually has a rather good sense of humour,” Harry said, remembering their last detention.

Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry felt his face heat up.

“Anyway,” Neville said, “the bi-thing…”

“I’m not bi,” Harry said stubbornly. “Everybody enjoys being kissed.”

“But not everybody gets aroused watching another bloke wank,” Ron said, and both Harry and Neville looked gobsmacked, though for two different reasons, as Ron immediately blushed and clasped both hands over his mouth, his eyes wide open.

“ _What_?” Neville asked loudly, looking back and forth between Harry and Ron

“ _Ron_!” Harry exclaimed. “I can’t believe you just said that, you prick.”

“I’m sorry, it just popped out,” Ron said. And he really was genuinely sorry.

“What is this about?” Neville asked curiously.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and then at Neville.

“Do you think we could get away with obliviating him?” Ron asked Harry, as if Neville wasn’t in the room.

Neville’s eyes went wide, and he looked worried.

“I don’t know,” Harry said.

“Maybe we could get Hermione to help us,” Ron suggested.

“I don’t think she’ll do it. I asked her once before, after the first kiss,” Harry said. He narrowed his eyes, looking pensive. “Then again, that was a whole group of people _and_ herself. Maybe she’ll do it if it’s just Neville.”

Neville was looking seriously worried now and waved both his hands in front of him. “No, no no, there’s no need for that. I won’t tell anyone or mention it again, ever. I won’t even ask.”

Harry smiled at Neville. “I believe you.”

Neville let out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

After a moment’s silence during which Neville still looked decidedly uncomfortable, Harry said: “Neville you do realise we weren’t really going to obliviate you, right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, of course,” Neville said.

Both Harry and Ron laughed. “You really thought we were going to do it, didn’t you?” Ron asked.

“Well… Yeah,” Neville admitted. “You seemed rather serious.”

“Come on, it would be completely irresponsible. Even if we did get Hermione to do it. Which she definitely wouldn’t.”

Neville looked genuinely relieved now. “I still won’t tell, though,” he said.

“I know, Neville,” Harry said.

“I would, however, like to know what that was about.” Neville grinned.

“I know, Neville,” Harry said again. “But you won’t.”

The three of them grinned, and Harry was glad Neville had been the only one of his dorm mates in there. Had it been anybody else, he would have seriously considered trying to obliviate them.

He had supper in the dorm, and Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus joined him.

On Sunday he again kept to his bed lying on his stomach and standing upright in the dorm, as Hermione wouldn’t be able to have the Essence of Murtlap for him until later that evening. Eventually, at length, she showed up in his dorm with a jar similar to the ones he and Malfoy had been using when they were gathering Fern spores.

“Here you go, Harry,” she said.

“Hermione, you are a true sweetheart. Now, if you would all kindly bugger off immediately so I can ease my suffering.”

Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Hermione all left the dormitory. After five minutes Hermione entered again.

“Hey, Hermione. I was going to come out to the common room. I think it will be all right, and I really could use the change of scenery,” Harry said.

Hermione sat down on the bed opposite his. “Are you all right?”

“Well, it’s certainly a lot less painful now, though it’s still a bit hard to move. They burst quite easily under friction. Walking included.”

“That is good to hear, but it wasn’t what I was referring to and you know it.”

He did know. “I’m fine,” Harry said, even though he really wasn’t and even though he knew she knew he wasn’t.

“So Ron tells me you think Ginny might be cursed?” Hermione said.

Harry looked down. “I don’t know. Probably not. I guess I just hope so.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “You hope that your girlfriend is cursed? Harry, you do know how that sounds don’t you?”

Harry rubbed his face with both hands. “I know, it’s just… I really want there to be an explanation for her behaviour the last few weeks, other than her being tired of me for reasons she either doesn’t want to tell me or she doesn’t even know. I’m sick of it.”

Hermione looked at him with an annoyingly understanding expression. “I know, Harry. And I agree: She _is_ acting out of sorts, but I don’t think she’s cursed. I think she’s confused somehow.”

Harry wasn’t comforted by that at all. Who wants to hear that their girlfriend might be confused? Honestly. “About what? I haven’t given her anything to be confused about.”

“Harry, I honestly don’t know. I can try to talk to her if you want?”

“Would you? I would appreciate that. Really.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Of course I will, Harry.”

“I’ve been wondering how you’ve been,” Harry said. “You know with the game and the dare and all.”

Hermione blushed. “I can’t say I’m not happy you’re a true gentleman,” she said with a small smile. “I truly am grateful, Harry.”

“Well, as long as you keep the Murtlap essence at a steady flow; no problem.” Harry grinned at her.

“You know; Malfoy helped me with the pickling of the tentacles,” Hermione said.

“He did?” Harry asked in genuine surprise.

“Yes. It would have taken me longer to finish it if he hadn’t.”

“But you already said yesterday morning you were going to have it ready by tonight. How do you figure it would have taken longer?” Harry asked.

“Well, the process was rather more complex than I had initially remembered it to be. The tentacles I used in 5th year were already pickled you see.” She blushed at the admission.

“And so you asked _Malfoy_ for help?”

“No, he offered. Came to me and said he’d made some for a student in 5th year and had done the pickling then. I guess he made the ones I used for you.”

Harry was surprised at the fact that Malfoy had made Essence of Murtlap for someone; performed an actual selfless act of kindness. “That was… nice of him.”

“It was. You should thank him some time,” Hermione said. “Although don’t do it when everybody can hear it – I’m not sure he wants you to know that he helped, and certainly not everybody else.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I thought you would like to know.” She got up and got him to put his arm around her shoulder and supported him to the common room, where cheers erupted as he entered.

He couldn’t help grinning, and as he looked around the common room his eyes fell on Malfoy. Their eyes locked, and as Malfoy’s lips quirked upwards in a sort-of smile and he nodded slightly as a greeting, Harry felt that fluttering thing in his stomach again. He got the sudden feeling that it might be something he ought to pay attention to; make it stop. But for now, he chose to leave it; it really was a nice sensation.

*

Potter really was an idiot picking the boils over fingering Granger. Draco supposed they didn’t have the kind of relationship where one would find it natural to do so, but he had done it often enough to Pansy, and she had reciprocated in turn. It was perfectly natural to them to use each other to satisfy ‘an itch’ and none of them were seeing anybody else. Then again, Potter and Granger _were_ Gryffindors and all about their ridiculous nobility and such.

Given how painful it looked, Draco was certain he would never, ever pick the boils. He’d rather have the neon writing on his forehead. Or preferably no dare that would call for either to be necessary.

Potter had taken his meals in the Gryffindor dorm over the weekend. According to the other Gryffindors he was in too much pain to move at all. Saturday at noon he had heard Granger telling the Weasel that brewing the Essence of Murtlap would take longer than she expected due to the complexity of the pickling of the tentacles needed in it. Seeing as Draco had already made the lotion from scratch once before, he had decided to offer his help, which Granger had gladly accepted. It seemed they had somehow reached some odd sort of understanding with all their inexplicable eye contact as of late, and they were able to work together, if not amicably, then courteously, and thus had had the brew done by Sunday evening. It was, of course, implied that Granger should not mention to Potter, or anybody else for that matter, that Draco had assisted in the brewing.

Sunday evening after Granger had delivered the brew to Potter, he had gone to the common room for the first time that weekend, supported by Granger. He looked as if he was in immense pain and Draco didn’t dare consider how it must have felt during the weekend without the Murtlap Essence. It had seemed to help Potter’s spirits that he was greeted as a hero with cheers from the rest of the students in the common room.

 

Monday morning Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table when the golden trio arrived in the Great Hall and very slowly made towards the Gryffindor table. Potter was staggering along and looking decidedly uncomfortable. He sat down carefully between Thomas and Longbottom and immediately directed his gaze in Draco’s direction. Nearly.

“He’s staring at you again,” Blaise said, only glancing briefly in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Draco snickered and shook his head. “I hate to break it to you, Blaise, but I’m not the one he’s looking at.

Blaise’s head snapped up immediately and he blanched – as much as was possible with his dark complexion – as he realised exactly who Potter’s attention was directed at.

“Oh shit.”

“Indeed,” Draco responded and continued to eat his breakfast.

“He does not look happy, does he?”

Draco diverted his attention from his plate and looked at Potter’s expression. “No, he most certainly does not.”

“What do you think he knows?” Blaise asked, sounding worried.

“Oh who knows,” Draco responded. “According to you nothing happened, so maybe he is just admiring your pretty face.”

“Shut up,” Blaise said. “He looks positively murderous.”

He didn’t, really. Although Draco could see that he certainly looked displeased, with his eyes narrowed and his fists balled.

“Maybe he’s just in pain,” Pansy said, interrupting the conversation.

“That isn’t it,” Blaise said and shook his head. “He wants to kill me. I can see it. I don’t know how you have been able to cope with that intense stare for the past six years, Draco.”

“He hasn’t been staring at me for six years,” Draco said.

“You’re right,” Pansy said. “It’s been six years and nearly two months now. You have too.”

“Have not,” Draco said stubbornly.

“There has been a mutual amount of attention directed at each other between the two of you since our very first evening at Hogwarts,” Pansy insisted.

Blaise interrupted just as Draco was going to deny that. “I hate to break off your little conversation about Draco’s and Potter’s mutual attraction, but I really think we ought to focus on my well-being and general survival,” he hissed urgently.

“Oh come off it, you drama queen,” Draco said. “As long as you didn’t do what you say you didn’t, you have nothing to worry about. Unless, of course, he decides to throw a temper tantrum anyway. Which he might, considering that he most likely suspects that you _did_ do what you claim you didn’t or suspects that you are planning to do so.”

“Right,” Blaise said nervously. He was a true Slytherin and much more comfortable with the sly political games than with hands-on action as the hot-tempered Gryffindor.

“You know, I hate to say I told you so…” Draco said.

Blaise glared at him. “No you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t. I absolutely love it. Thank you, for diverting his attention from me for once.”

“Oh please,” Pansy interjected. “You know you love the attention, darling.”

“Everybody likes attention, sweet Pansy,” Draco said.

“Excuse me, let me correct: You know you love _his_ attention, darling,” Pansy said.

“Do not,” Draco said, scowling. It seemed all he could come up with in regards to Potter and their mutual, purely academical, observations of each other, were lame ‘do nots’ and ‘do toos’. He would have to give himself a proper scolding later on for being such an inarticulate buffoon.

Draco noted that the Weaselette gave Potter a small peck on the cheek as she left the Great Hall, so he gathered they must still be together. Not that he cared either way, obviously.

Their first lesson of the day was a study session which they spent doing homework in the common room. Blaise was trying hard to seem invisible whenever he spotted Potter.

Something about breakfast had been bothering Draco, and when Blaise went in to the Slytherin dorm to retrieve some notes, Draco followed him. Blaise eyed him curiously, and Draco suddenly found it hard to speak. Blaise eventually rolled his eyes.

“What is it this time, Draco?” he asked.

Draco frowned. “What do you mean ‘this time’? I haven’t even said anything.”

“No, but every time you get that flustered ‘oh-dear-something-happened-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-or-say-look’, it’s about Potter. So what is it this time?” Blaise asked again.

“It is not always about Potter,” Draco said, indignantly. “It just happens to be, this time.” Blaise snorted, and Draco continued: “Sort of, at least. It’s about something that happened at breakfast,” Draco said. “Something you said…”

When Draco didn’t elaborate, Blaise raised his brows and asked: “Am I supposed to know what it was that I said or would you care to tell me?”

Draco sat down on his bed.

“Oh dear,” Blaise said, “it’s a ‘sitting-down-conversation.”

“Yes, well, I…” Draco began, and Blaise closed his eyes, obviously impatient. “It was when Pansy and I were talking about how Potter hadn’t been observing me for the past six years.”

Blaise rolled his eyes again. “I seem to recall that the discussion was about the fact that he _had_ been observing you for the past six years and two months. And that you had, too.”

Draco’s cheeks turned a slight pink. “Anyway; you were quite eager to get the conversation back on the track of _your_ problems and you said something about Potter’s and my mutual attraction.”

“I seem to recall something of the sort, yes,” Blaise said. “Your point?”

“Well, what did you mean? Surely you meant to say something else. Right?”

“No,” Blaise stated. “I meant attraction. The two of you are very obviously attracted to each other. And if over six years of obsession and paranoia shouldn’t clue you in on that, the fact that you are both very clearly _very_ passionate about your Friday night kisses, should. Especially the one last Friday, with the dry-humping.”

“It’s _not_ attraction, Blaise,” Draco said matter-of-factly.

“Okay, Draco,” Blaise said and got up. “Whatever you say. Come on, we’ll be late for Defence.”

Draco got up as well, not at all settled and not at all at ease.

In Defence class Snape almost immediately noticed that Potter had trouble sitting down. He announced that he had originally planned for today’s lesson to be a practical lesson but had changed his mind, so they would be studying in class, sitting down the entire two lessons; no standing, no exception. He looked at Potter while announcing this and smiled nastily.

After the first one and a half lessons, Potter was gripping the edge of his chair as if trying to hoist himself up and cause as little pressure as possible on the boils.

“Hands on your desk, Potter,” Snape snapped when he discovered it.

“Please, sir, I need to stand up, just for a bit,” Potter begged.

“No!” Snape answered sternly. “Now sit down properly and put your hands on your desk.”

“Why?” Potter complained. “A lot of people don’t have their hands on their desks. Why do I have to?”

“To take notes, you nincompoop,” was the answer. “And ten points from Gryffindor for asking stupid questions.”

Potter carefully removed his hands from the chair and positioned them on the desk. Draco could see that he was trying not to sit down by holding himself up with the help of his thigh muscles and his elbows on the desk.

“I believe I told you to sit down on your chair properly, Mr. Potter,” Snape said quietly. “Now is not the time for muscle exercises. Five points from Gryffindor.”

Potter winced as he sat down. At the end of class he was pale, sweating and panting and as soon as they were dismissed, he got up, eliciting a strained groan. He was immediately supported by Weasley and Thomas who led him to the nearest bathroom.

At lunch Draco noticed that the Weaselette barely looked up from her conversation with Longbottom when Potter, Thomas and Weasley entered the Great Hall. She took her time finishing the conversation before she turned to Potter who had (sort of) sat down next to her. For some reason Draco found it disturbing when the Weaselette grabbed hold of his chin, leaned in and snogged him. He found it even more disturbing when Potter smiled as she whispered something in his ear.

Draco winced as he suddenly found himself poked in the neck with a fork.

“Pansy, what the fuck?”

“I couldn’t get through to you. I was asking whether you were actually going to eat lunch or if you were just going to keep staring at Potter.”

“I will have you know, Pansy,” Draco said, “that what I am doing is not staring. It’s observing. I am observing the nature of the Weaselette’s relationship with Potter so that I can report back to Blaise whether or not he should consider himself in trouble.”

“M-hmm,” Pansy said sceptically. “They seem friendly enough right now,” Pansy noted.

The Weaselette was helping Potter get up. Draco saw the other Weasley say something to Potter and the Weaselette that the Weaselette answered. He then saw the male Weasley hide his face in his hands while shaking his head, and he saw Potter snap his head towards the Weaselette and say something to her, and he saw the Weaselette’s grin. Draco watched as she and Potter very slowly moved towards the exit. He watched them until they had exited the Great Hall and then directed his attention to his lunch and ate his meal in silence, well aware that Pansy was staring at him intently.

When Draco arrived at Potions Potter wasn’t there yet, despite the fact that he had finished his lunch very quickly and left the Great Hall more than half an hour ago. He felt a surge of annoyance directed partly at Potter and partly – mostly – at the she-Weasel. He then felt an even greater surge of annoyance directed at himself for being annoyed with Potter for – he didn’t even know what for. So when Slughorn entered and class began and Potter still wasn’t there, leaving Draco to work on their potion by himself, he decided that he may as well be outright angry with Potter.

After a couple of minutes Slughorn, predictably, made his way to Draco’s and Potter’s workstation.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn said, “where is our dear Mr. Potter today?”

“I really couldn’t say, Professor,” Draco answered. “Perhaps he decided that the Great Harry Potter is above attending class.”

Slughorn audibly drew breath and theatrically clasped his hand to his chest, looking shocked. “Now now, Mr. Malfoy; there is no need to slight dear Mr. Potter in such a fashion, I am sure.”

Draco was aware that he had the attention of the other students in class as he hadn’t bothered to lower his voice in the least, and that he would most likely land himself in detention again, but he couldn’t help himself and continued: “Or perhaps Potter, Prince of Potions, decided he had better things to do than stand here taking orders from me while pretending to know what he’s doing.” Slughorn drew in a very audible breath again, his jaw dropping and eyes widening drastically. Draco, however, found it hard to stop ranting, now that he had started. “Or perhaps he had his tongue so far up your arse, Professor, that it withered and needed mending by Madam Pomfrey.”

Slughorn let out a small “oh dear me” and supported himself by the table with one hand while still clutching his chest with the other.

Draco kept going. “Or perhaps he decided to skip lunch and went to have a fuck in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom with his feisty little nymphomaniac girlfriend.”

Slughorn’s eyelids fluttered and he slapped the back of his palm against his forehead while exclaiming a small “oh”. That man really was skilled at theatrics.

“Or perhaps his arse was so fucking full of boils that it took twenty minutes to get from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to the dungeons,” a voice sounded by the door.

The entire class looked towards the door, where Potter was standing, looking absolutely livid.

Slughorn immediately straightened himself up and brushed the front of his robes with both hands as if brushing off dust or smoothing a crease. He cleared his throat. “That will be twenty five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. I will not give you a detention though Merlin knows you do deserve it, verbally attacking another student like that, but consider this a warning.” He wagged his index finger under Draco’s nose and once again Draco got the urge to snap it off like a twig.

Potter staggered across the class room to stand next to Draco at their work station. Draco could almost feel Potter’s tenseness. He dared a look in his direction and saw that Potter’s jaw was clenched, his nostrils were flaring and there was a tremor to his hands. Draco got the feeling of immense satisfaction knowing Potter was angry. For some reason unknown to himself, Draco felt a need to get a rise out of Potter. Which was weird since they had actually been almost-sort-of getting along. Maybe that was the problem: Getting along with Potter was just unnatural, and for order to be restored Draco had to not get along with him on a more regular basis. Yes. That must be it.

So, to restore order, Draco must get a rise out of Potter.

After Slughorn had announced that he could be found in the storage room examining which ingredients were running low, and had left the classroom, Draco said to Potter: “So, Potter, now that you have decided to finally honour us with your presence; are you going to get a move-on and actually assist me in brewing this Potion or would the great Boy Who Lived prefer to supervise his inferior Potions partner?”

“No,” Potter answered. “I think I’ll just stand here and take orders, pretending to know what I’m doing.”

Okay, so not enough to get a rise out of him. But at least Draco now knew that Potter had heard most of his ranting. He couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

“So, Potter, you said it took about twenty minutes to walk here from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” Draco continued. “One must deduce you were in there getting off with the Weaselette, since it seems to be your room of choice during school hours, and since you left together about half an hour before class.”

“Must one?” Potter asked. “You know, Malfoy, it’s disturbing how much attention you pay to my sex life.”

Draco blushed but Potter still wasn’t looking at him, so he most likely didn’t notice. Thank goodness for that.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,” Draco said. “If I were to pay attention to anybody’s sex life in connection to you, it would be the Weaselette’s.”

“It’s Ginny!” Potter said. “And same difference.”

“Is it?” Draco asked.

To Draco’s satisfaction, Potter snapped his head towards Draco and glared at him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snarled.

“Well she is a _very_ attractive young woman, as I’m sure you are well aware. And let’s face it: She has an enormous sex drive. A week is a long way to go without sex for someone that horny. And kinky.”

“Your point?” Potter asked through gritted teeth.

“No point in particular,” Draco answered. “Just that if _you_ have noticed how delicious her body is and that _I_ , who in general and very openly despises anything Weasley, have noticed it – perhaps other people have as well.”

Potter’s eyes narrowed and he glared over his shoulder in Blaise’s direction. Draco heard something clang to the floor from the direction of Blaise and Pansy’s workstation, which led him to the conclusion that Blaise had most likely seen Potter glaring at him. Okay, so that wasn’t Draco’s intention, as he didn’t mean for his friend to get hurt. However, if this could get a rise out of Potter and satisfy Draco’s itch, he would just have to deal with the Blaise-situation later. Perhaps he could appoint Vince and Greg to protect him.

“I am merely saying that you always were unobservant, Potter,” Draco continued. “And you might want to be more attentive to your girlfriend’s needs before others beat you to it.”

That did it. Draco didn’t see Potter’s fist coming until it had already hit him straight on the cheekbone. He raised his hand to cup his cheek, but Potter grabbed his wrist and twisted Draco’s arm onto his back while slamming Draco’s head onto the table and pinning him down, so that the side of his face that hadn’t been in contact with Potter’s fist was now squashed against the table with Potter’s hand firmly in place on the other cheek. It had all happened very fast, from the punch being thrown to Draco’s cheek being squashed against the table, and the other students were only just beginning to react. Draco distantly heard the scrambling of chairs from the other workstations in the room.

Potter leaned down, his lips barely touching Draco’s ear as he whispered. “You just watch your mouth, Malfoy, or I will kick your arse so hard you will not be able to sit for a week.”

Draco could feel Potter’s neck against his lips as Potter whispered in his ear, and there was only one thing to do, really. So Draco used what force he had to tilt his head and sink his teeth into Potter’s neck. Potter let out some undignified animalistic sound and per reflex let go of Draco’s wrist and head, which gave Draco the opportunity to pounce on Potter. He let go of Potter’s neck and instead grabbed both his upper arms and pushed Potter backwards into the desk. His push was so forceful that Potter was bent backwards and the back of his skull slammed down on the desk.

This time Draco leaned down, so far that his nose was touching Potter’s, and he could feel Potter’s breath ghosting over his lips. They stared at each other intensely and once again Draco was mesmerised by the overwhelming green colour of Potter’s eyes. Draco noticed a very brief expression of something he couldn’t define on Potter’s face. Potter looked down on Draco’s lips and parted his own lips. For a brief moment Draco thought Potter was actually going to kiss him right there, and for a brief moment he got an unwanted sensation of butterflies in his stomach. That is, until Potter moved his head upwards and latched on to Draco’s lower lip, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh.

Draco shrieked in a – he was sorry to say – very unmanly manner, as much as was possible when your lip was being held capture, and he loosened his grip enough for Potter to raise his arms and grab hold of both Draco’s upper arms. That was when they, for the second time in three weeks, found themselves hit by a Petrificus Totalus. They froze immediately, Potter on his back on the desk with Draco on top of him in some sort of awkward embrace as they were both still holding on to each other’s upper arms, and with their noses resting against each other, and Draco’s lip between Potter’s teeth.

Soon after, Granger entered the classroom with a distressed looking Slughorn at her heals.

As Slughorn went to stand next to the desk the petrified couple was sprawled across, he shook his head.

“My dear boys. I am sad to see that you both once again resolve to such primitive ways to express yourselves. Especially you, Mr. Malfoy, since you were given a warning not one hour ago.”

Draco was certain that he would be the one to take the blame since he was the one on top, but Slughorn continued: “Now, class –“ Out of the corner of his eye Draco could see the professor raising both hands in the air as if to say ‘listen to me, for I know the answers to all’ “- I know that at first glance it would seem that Mr. Malfoy is to blame for this whole debacle , and I do not blame you for thinking so. However, it was brought to my attention by the good Ms. Granger here that dear Mr. Potter did indeed throw the first punch.”

“Hermione, I can’t believe you,” Draco heard the Weasel say.

Slughorn bowed down to look at them properly. “I am going to un-petrify both your mouths, so we do not end up with your lip bit off, Mr. Malfoy,” he chuckled. “And your eyes, as I know how uncomfortable it is to not be able to blink,” he said as an afterthought.

He waved his wand, and Draco blinked rapidly. He felt Potter release his grip on Draco’s lip. Draco would have moaned if he could. He let his tongue run over his lip gently before realising that his and Potter’s faces were actually so close together that Potter’s upper lip had positioned itself firmly between Draco’s upper and lower lip as he released the grip on Draco’s lip. That meant that Draco had just licked Potter’s lip as well as his own. His eyes widened, and he saw Potter’s do the same. It dawned on Draco that he was currently laying on top of Potter, embracing him, their lips so close together it could easily classify as a kiss. He suddenly felt thankful for being petrified, as he would otherwise not trust his cock to not fuck things up in this position. He felt Potter’s breath speed as they looked each other in the eyes. Draco saw surprise, confusion, something undefinable and lastly determination flicker across Potter’s face, and he suddenly felt Potter’s tongue against his lower lip. His eyes opened wide once more, and had he been able to, Draco would have pulled back in surprise. As it was, he couldn’t. So he did the only sensible thing in this situation and flicked his own tongue across Potter’s upper lip. Their tongues touched at the movement, but neither stopped. It was an extremely odd and awkward, though not entirely unpleasant, sort of kiss, what with not being able to move other than their lips and tongues. The fact that they were staring into each other’s eyes only made it weirder. So Draco found himself massaging Potter’s upper lip and tongue with his own, and Potter massaging Draco’s lower lip and tongue with his, as Slughorn once again addressed the classroom saying something or other – Draco wasn’t really paying attention. Eventually Slughorn ended his monologue and addressed Draco and Potter who both withdrew their tongues at once, before anyone could notice.

“Now, boys, I am going to un-petrify you entirely. You will not in any way harm or assault each other, neither physically nor verbally once I have removed the spell or you will both answer to your heads of houses.”

Slughorn removed the spell, and Draco and Potter immediately flew apart, avoiding physical contact. Or any form of contact, really.

“I have no choice but to land you both in detention. Again. I think Thursday next and the Saturday the week after– seeing as Thursday that week is Halloween – and then Friday the week after as I already have my Thursday that week planned out.” He turned to address the class. “Class dismissed. Clear your work stations. I will see you all on Thursday. And I will expect the both of you to behave your age in the future,” Slughorn said, placing a fat-fingered hand on each of their shoulder and squeezing lightly before he ushered them towards the door.

Draco didn’t go to the common room at all for the next three days except to walk through on his way to meals and classes.


	7. Self-preservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have their third detention and something unsettling happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second update today so don't miss chapter 6.

The first half of Harry’s week was unpleasant to say the least. Monday had started out okay with him and Ginny making up in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He wasn’t able to fuck properly and they had to abandon the attempt at the blow job Ginny was giving him as it hurt too badly when he accidentally began thrusting. So in the end they just ended up with him fingering her while they were both standing up. But then there was the fight with Malfoy during Potions where they had somehow ended up sort of snogging - as much as is possible when one is unable to move properly, that is. Harry wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t actually him who had started it which just made it so much worse. Yes, Malfoy had licked Harry’s lip first, but Harry was pretty sure, even then, that it had been accidental. So there he was facing even more detentions with Malfoy. And his week had just spiralled down from there. Ginny was in a sour mood even though he did his best to provide her with orgasms twice a day – one after lunch and one at some point during the evenings. But she seemed impossible to satisfy, constantly whining about the ‘need to feel his cock inside her’ and the unfairness of her being punished just because he was too much of a gentleman (at least she had stopped calling him a prissy prude) to do the dare that landed him the boils in the first place. It was getting tiresome, really, and Harry couldn’t wait to be rid of them, if not for his own relief, then to shut her up.

Despite the Essence of Murtlap, walking to and from class was excruciatingly painful and he was late for every class that required more than a minimal amount of walking. Which was all of them. Luckily they had a free period before Defence lessons on both Monday and Thursday, so at least he managed to be in time for those. He had told Ron and Hermione already on Monday not to wait for him in between classes, so at least _they_ weren’t late for class. They obliged him, albeit reluctantly. Even Hermione, whom Harry had expected to jump at the opportunity to make it to class on time, seemed loath to leave him. Harry guessed that she felt some sort of obligation towards him, seeing as it was a dare involving her that had got him in this situation.

Hermione had been shooting quizzical looks at Harry ever since the fight with Malfoy. Harry was curious as to why, but he didn’t want to risk another session of ‘Analysing Harry’.

Ron had berated Hermione for ratting Harry out to Slughorn, but she had insisted that it would have been wrong to let Slughorn pin the whole thing on Malfoy, which he most definitely would have done. It would have been especially wrong since he had actually helped her brew the Essence of Murtlap – (she didn’t tell Ron that, but Harry knew she also had that in mind). And, as she pointed out; even if she would have chosen not to tell Slughorn, Harry most likely would have anyway. Only; had Harry told Slughorn he threw the first punch, Slughorn wouldn’t have believed him but would have thought he was saying it as an act of nobility. In the end Ron had to agree with her, as always.

Harry was sorely tempted to skip Potions on Thursday. He thought that serving detention in the evening was quite enough of Malfoy’s company for one day, without also having to stand next to the bastard for two whole lessons. However, Hermione wouldn’t let him and, as usual, she got her way. It turned out not to be so bad after all. Malfoy seemed to have chosen to ignore the incident from Monday, both the fighting and the sort-of-kissing, so Harry chose to follow his example, and they spent the time brewing the Lavender concoction Malfoy had mentioned on their last detention. What was odd, was that they did so almost amicably, with Malfoy letting Harry do the entire thing while standing next to him and coaching him through it, explaining the procedure and its function in the potion and in general. Harry found that Malfoy had a way of explaining things that actually made them make sense.

Perhaps detention wouldn’t be too bad after all.

*

After supper Draco headed for the 7th year common room to freshen up before detention. On his way there he ran into Potter going the opposite way, moving very slowly.

“See you later, Potter,” Draco said without thinking. Because if he _had_ been thinking he obviously wouldn’t have addressed Potter first. Or at all. Or even acknowledged him. Obviously. Right? Right!

“Yup,” Potter said. “If I ever make it there,” he added as an afterthought.

Draco frowned. “I thought you said it took twenty minutes to walk to the dungeons. There’s more than half an hour before we have to be there.”

“That was from the second floor. Right now we’re on the fifth, and the stairs are the worst,” Potter said through gritted teeth. He was pale and sweating again as Draco had seen him during Defence class.

“Oh for the love of Merlin,” Draco exclaimed. He surprised himself by walking to stand next to Potter and grabbing hold of his arm, which he then flung over his shoulder. He then slid his own arm around Potter’s waist.

“What are you doing,” Potter said, looking alarmed.

“Take it easy, Potter. I’m not going to molest you. I’ll help you walk to the dungeon,” Draco said.

Potter was quiet for a while as they began descending down the stairs.

“Why?” he asked after a while.

“I don’t know,” Draco said in full honesty, because he really didn’t. “I must be ill.”

Potter actually chuckled. “Yeah, that must be it,” he said.

“I just hope nobody sees,” Draco said worriedly.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t do to have the Slytherin Ice Prince show a public display of helpfulness. Particularly toward the famous Boy Who Lived.”

“Exactly,” Draco answered. “It would ruin my reputation as an evil-doer.”

“Can’t have that,” Potter said.

Even with Draco’s help it took them all but half an hour to get to the dungeon. As they entered the Potions classroom two minutes to eight, Draco hurriedly let go of Potter’s arm and waist, and they both cleared their throats.

“Thanks,” Potter said.

“Yeah well, if I hadn’t taken mercy on you, you would have been late and we would probably both be punished. I don’t need any more detentions in your company, Potter,” Draco said.

“Of course,” Potter said.

Potter opened his mouth to say something else but at that moment Slughorn entered the classroom.

“Good evening, boys,” he said. “I see you have healed up nicely, Mr. Malfoy.” He chuckled as if he had just said something amusing.

“Yes, Professor,” Draco answered, politely but acidly. “Thank you for your consideration.”

“Not at all, not at all. Now, boys, we might as well get on with it, eh?” Slughorn didn’t wait for them to answer but continued: “Today, you are gathering the dew drops nesting in the Lady’s Mantle’s leaves. Half a pint will do.”

“But sir,” Draco butted in, “They need to be gathered at dawn for their magic to work.”

“Very good, very good, Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn answered. “I see Mr. Potter’s skills are rubbing off.”

“Sir, it really isn’t…” Potter began, but Draco interrupted.

“Professor, there are more than ten hours till dawn. What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Oh, time will pass easily in the company of Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn answered. “So many interesting tales. Or you can take a walk in the forest.”

Draco registered Potter hiding his face in his hands and shaking his head.

“Professor can’t we just go to the common room and wait till dawn and _then_ go to the forest?” Potter asked.

“Nonsense, dear Harry,” Slughorn said. “You might miss it, and that really would not do, seeing as most of your class’ potions will need them added next week. If you wish, you may visit my office when you get back, and I shall leave two Pepper-Ups out for you on my desk. Now hop along.” He waved his hands and ushered them out of his office.

“We’ll probably need ten hours to get there anyway,” Draco said, referring to Potter’s slow pace.

“Nah, only four,” Potter said. “If Pansy is as good as her word, they’ll be gone in a little less than three and a half hours. By then we’ll have made it to that tree over there – “ Potter pointed towards a tree about a hundred yards ahead, “- and then, after celebrating my arse’s newly found freedom, we’ll make it to the forest. Then we just have to figure out what to do for the last six.”

“You’re going to celebrate your arse’s newfound freedom?” Draco asked.

“Absolutely,” Potter said and sounded as if he meant it.

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing what that entails,” Draco said.

Potter didn’t answer, but Draco thought he could sense him smiling. He found that fact slightly alarming.

They walked for a while in silence, until Potter finally stopped. It felt like they had walked for a very long time, when really they were still in the dimly lit courtyard.

“Can we stop for a minute?” Potter asked through gritted teeth. “I swear they hurt more and more the closer we get to midnight. I’m positive they can feel their end is near, and they’re trying to make the most of it while they can.”

Draco’s lips twitched involuntarily upwards. Potter was resting against Draco’s shoulder, and Draco could hear him breathing heavily.

“Are you not using your Essence of Murtlap?” Draco asked.

“Of course I am,” Potter answered. “All the time. I just don’t particularly feel like doing it in your company. I did it right before I headed for the dungeon.”

That was understandable.

“Maybe Granger didn’t brew it strong enough,” Draco said. Harry turned his head to look at him.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Draco said.

“Oh indeed,” Potter said.

“She shouldn’t have told you.”

“Well, she did. And that’s how I know that there is no way it was brewed wrong or weak.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Draco said. “There might actually be a bigger chance that it is brewed wrong. I might be out to get you.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Potter insisted.

“I wouldn’t put it past me,” Draco answered.

“I would.”

“And why is that, Potter?” Draco asked. And he was genuinely curious.

“Because you take pride in the potions you brew, and you really are very talented. And there is no way something you made would be weak, what with all your concoctions and ‘grinding instead of sprinkling’ and such. Because I assume concoctions help enhance the effects of a potion over a more liquid solution. There is no way I would have been able to walk this far, even with help, if you hadn’t helped Hermione make it.”

“Oh,” Draco said. “Well… Granger is very talented as well. She gets higher marks than me.”

“Only because Slughorn’s an idiot who cares much more about the Ministry approved recipe than the actual understanding of the brewing and the ingredients’ effects and such. Hermione would never do anything that wasn’t in the recipe, so she wouldn’t improve the potions like you do.”

Draco didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know - ,” Potter said, “- it’s hard to explain”

“Perhaps you just lack the ability to express yourself satisfactorily,” Draco said, although Potter had actually explained himself rather well.

They stood in silence again for a while.

“Anyway; thank you,” Potter said.

“You’re welcome,” Draco answered after a moment’s silence.

Again, none of them spoke.

“This is awkward,” Draco said after a couple of minutes. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk for a bit? I don’t fancy standing here with your arm around me for the next three hours.”

“Two and a half,” Potter corrected. “And yes, I can walk for a bit.”

And so they walked on, Potter’s arm around Draco’s shoulder and Draco’s arm around Potter’s waist.

Unexpectedly it actually did take several hours for them to reach the forest due to several long breaks and Potter’s increasingly slow pace, and it was just past eleven when they finally stopped at the edge of the forest.

“So, Potter,” Draco said, “how do you want to spend your last forty minutes of excruciating agony?”

“On my stomach,” Potter answered. He removed his arm from around Draco’s shoulders in order to lie down. However, he didn’t get very far in the process – he had only just slightly bent over – before he had to grip Draco’s upper arm tightly, making a whimpering moan.

Draco struggled not to laugh. “Here, Potter, let me help you.” He took out his wand and conjured a blanket on the ground. “Can’t have the Golden Boy dying of pneumonia on my watch – I’d get lynched.”

Potter chuckled softly. It was a nice sound, Draco thought. “I’ve figured you out, Malfoy. You’re gathering favours aren’t you? You won’t stop till you can boss me around for the rest of your life.”

“Well what do you know; you _have_ figured me out, Potter. Now let me help you down and you can owe me one more.”

He supported Potter by standing in front of him, letting Potter hold on to both Draco’s shoulders, while he held on above Potter’s waist with both hands. Draco helped ease Potter down to his knees. When Potter was on his knees, Draco also bent down, moved his hands to Potter’s arm pits and hoisted him forwards carefully. It was actually quite hard, as Draco was supporting a great amount of Potter’s bodyweight in an awkward position. Potter was whimpering while half giggling, half laughing on the way down due to the hilarity of the situation. He let out a low moan when he was finally positioned on his stomach. The sound made Draco blush as his teenage mind led his thoughts onto other situation that might cause Potter to make sounds like that. He then mentally punched himself.

“Only twenty minutes left, Potter,” Draco said. He sat down on the blanket next to Potter. “Do you mind?”

Potter merely whimpered, so Draco assumed he didn’t mind and stayed.

Potter lay completely still, just whimpering and Draco couldn’t help giggling.

“Tell me something,” Potter said.

“Yes?” Draco said, waiting for Potter to elaborate.

“Just tell me _something_ – _anything_. Distract me.”

“My, my, bossy aren’t we,” Draco said but acquiesced. “Lady’s Mantle can be used as treatment for wounds, gastrointestinal complaints and female ailments. The Lady’s Mantle itself has no use in the potion we are brewing – we are merely collecting the dewdrops that are gathered in the leaves. It needs to be done at dawn, as those drops have magical powers. They are not specific powers in particular but when added to certain potions they enhance the effects of all the other ingredients, thus making the potion more powerful.” Draco was sitting cross-legged on the blanket and was gesticulating as he spoke. “You don’t use them in all potions because some ingredients counteract with them. For instance –“

“Oh my god,” Potter suddenly exclaimed and lifted his head from the blanket.

Draco quickly grabbed his wand and looked around to determine any imminent threats. “What? What is it?”

Potter let out a small laugh. “They’re gone. They’re really gone. I can’t believe they’re gone.” He jumped up and threw both arms into the air. “MY ARSE IS FREE,” Potter shouted, tilting his head backwards.

Draco’s jaw dropped as Potter began running around in circles, occasionally wiggling his arse. Draco grinned and covered his mouth with one hand. He let his hand drop from his mouth and sat with his hands in his lap, watching Potter in astonishment.

“You really weren’t kidding about the celebrating then?” It was more a statement than a question.

Although he tried not to, Draco couldn’t help laughing when Potter threw himself down on the ground and started rolling around on the grass.

Eventually Potter stilled and lay panting in the grass.

“Come on, Potter,” Draco said. “The grass is cold. Get your boil-free arse up on the blanket or you’ll catch something.”

Potter got up and went to sit on the blanket next to Draco. He sighed and grinned at Draco. “That felt fucking amazing.”

“It was quite an experience to watch,” Draco said, grinning.

Potter didn’t say anything but merely sighed.

“’Gastrointestinal complaints’ and ‘female ailments’,” he said after a couple of minutes. “Who talks like that?”

Draco huffed. “People who know what they’re talking about and possess the ability to express themselves in an academic manner.”

“Or poncy gits,” Potter answered.

“Prick,” Draco answered without malice.

“Ferret,” Potter countered.

“Wanker.”

“I thought we already established that one fits you better,” Potter said cheekily as he lay down on his back.

Draco snorted and lay down as well, looking up at the night sky. It was a starry night and the sky was clear of clouds.

“It’s getting cold,” Potter said, and Draco threw a warming charm over both of them without answering. He heard Potter shuffle around as if getting comfortable.

They lay there for a long while in silence, both of them looking up at the stars.

“Why did you do it?” Draco asked after a while.

“Do what?”

“Pick the boils,” Draco elaborated. “I mean, not ‘why did you pick the boils and not the neon writing’ – that one is pretty obvious, but why did you refuse to do the dare at all? It would have been easy enough to do. You could have even gone to one of the dorms to do it.”

“I didn’t want to do that to her. Or Ron.”

“And the Wea – Ginny?”

Potter snorted. “You heard her. She was almost about to force me to.” After a while he added under his breath: “Probably would have got off on it, too.”

Draco turned his head to look at Potter. He opened his mouth, about to say ‘trouble in paradise?’, but thought better of it and instead looked up at the sky again.

“Why didn’t you do it with… you know… the kisses?”

Potter turned his head towards Draco. “They didn’t involve genitals. Plus, you don’t mean the same to me as Ron and Hermione do.”

“Now that’s just hurtful, Potter,” Draco said, and Potter looked up at the sky, chuckled again; that low, soft sound.

“Having experienced it,” Potter said, “I am less inclined to ever pick that one again – come what may.”

“You would for them, though,” Draco said.

“Yeah, I guess I probably would.”

“I’m telling you, it’s that insane Gryffindor nobility kicking in again,” Draco said. “You’re crazy the lot of you.”

“So I hear,” Potter said, and they once again succumbed to silence.

After a while Potter asked: “Can I ask you something?”

“I believe you just did,” Draco answered.

“Something more, then,” Potter said.

“You can try,” Draco said. In his experience, when people asked ‘can I ask you something’, it was rarely followed by something one would like to have been asked.

“Was it hard – betraying your father and the other… the others?”

And just as Draco had thought, this was exactly that kind of question.

“Of course it was bloody hard you dimwit,” Draco spat. “He may be a death eater and out of his mind, but fact remains that he _is_ my father. Of course, you –“

“ _Don’t_ say it,” Potter snapped.

“Don’t say what?” Draco asked, although he knew perfectly well that Potter had picked up exactly what Draco was just about to say.

“Don’t play stupid, Malfoy. You know what. I’m not the only utterly predictable person here.”

Draco remembered that on their first detention he had accused Potter of being utterly predictable. Which he was. But apparently so was Draco.

“I might have wanted to say something else,” Draco said. “I might just be more inventive than you.”

Potter snorted. “You _are_ not. I can even give you a playout of how it would go if you said it: You would have said ‘you wouldn’t know would you, Potter – because your parents are dead, aren’t they’, then I would have jumped you and started punching you, you would then do some dirty trick, like biting me in the neck or something, you vampire, I would break your nose, you would kick me in the nuts, and since there’s no-one here to petrify us, we would most likely keep fighting till we die of exhaustion. Then we wouldn’t be able to gather the dew drops and nobody would be able to finish their potions.”

“You have it all played out in your head, haven’t you?” Draco said with a small smile.

“Well, I guess we’re both just utterly predictable like that,” Potter answered. “Anyway, I’m sorry I asked. Let’s just leave it, shall we.” Draco could hear traces of annoyance in his voice.

Draco lay still, looking up, annoyed with himself that he had almost said something that was certain to ruin the mood. He was then annoyed with himself for admitting that there was a ‘mood’ to be ruined. Because the unpleasant fact was; he enjoyed lying outside on a blanket next to Potter, talking about this and that. In the end he decided to offer some sort of reconciliation.

“It _was_ very hard for me,” he said, and Potter turned his head to the side to look at him. Draco kept looking up at the stars. “I think it’s even harder for my mother, though.” Potter didn’t answer, and Draco continued. “She had to choose between her son and her husband. And I am here, surrounded by people all the time while she is all alone in that creepy old house.”

“Where _does_ she live right now?” Potter asked, looking up at the sky once more.

“It’s in Muggle London,” Draco answered. “It’s a big house under the Fidelius charm. No-one comes by except Order members once in a while to check up on her. She says she’s doing fine, but I tell you that house is spooky. I don’t care if it _is_ her ancestral home.” Potter’s head snapped to the side. “Just all alone all the time with no-one for company but my own house elf and a nasty, creepy, pure-blood-obsessed house elf named –“

“- Kreacher,” Potter answered for him.

Draco turned his head to look at Potter, even though it was really too dark to see much more than his silhouette. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“It’s my house,” Potter said.

“ _Your_ house?”

“Yeah. I stayed at the Weasleys’ all summer because it was being used as a safe house. I never heard by whom. Not that I would have wanted to stay there anyway. That house really _is_ very creepy.”

Draco tossed an arm over his head, covering his eyes. “I can’t believe it. I’m living in Harry Potter’s house.”

“Well, technically, I do believe you are living at Hogwarts,” Potter said. “Your mother is living in my house.”

Draco rolled onto his stomach, hid his face in his hands and groaned. He heard Potter chuckling again with that calm, soft, low sound, and Draco turned around to lie on his back again.

“Harry Potter to the rescue,” he mumbled.

“At least the house is occupied by someone who might appreciate it. Some of it at least. Perhaps she can even try to talk to Sirius’ mum’s portrait by the front door and convince her to stop shouting. I really hate that portrait but it’s put up with a permanent sticking charm.”

Draco snickered. “She tried. She was unsuccessful to say the least. She was accused of ‘blood treason for being harboured in The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black by blood traitors, foul halfbloods and filthy mudbloods’.”

Potter snickered too. “I can imagine it. Was Kreacher upset with her?”

“He really was,” Draco said. “Well, of course he didn’t say it to her face, but he did that mumbling under his breath thing. Called her all sorts of things. He forgave her fairly quickly, though. I think it helped that she is pureblood. That elf really has a thing for purebloods.”

“He sure does,” Harry agreed.

“Does he really think no-one can hear him when he mumbles to himself?” Draco asked.

“I think so,” Potter answered. “Dumbledore thought it was because he had been alone for so long.”

“How did you get the house? There is no way I am going to believe that you are related to the Blacks.”

Potter laughed. “I’m not. I inherited it from Sirius.”

“Regulus’ brother, right?” Draco asked and Harry hummed in agreement. “I don’t recall seeing him on the tapestry.”

“No,” Harry said. “His name was bumped off when he moved to live with my dad. He and his mum didn’t get along.”

“He was your godfather wasn’t he?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Potter answered. Draco could hear the sadness in his voice.

“I’m sorry my aunt killed him.”

“I am too,” Potter said. “Wasn’t your fault, though.”

“I know,” Draco said. “You took credit for it on our last detention.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” Potter sounded wistful.

“Yes, well, if you ever get sick of carrying the woes of the world on your shoulders, you could always try blaming my aunt for that one instead,” Draco offered. “That nasty, wolf-shagging maniac.”

“Is she really in a relationship with Greyback?”

“It’s not confirmed,” Draco answered. “But I do have some very strong suspicions.”

“Disgusting,” Potter stated.

“I agree,” Draco said.

Draco was surprised how good it felt to talk about the safe-house with Potter who knew the house and the elf and the things in the house, such as Aunt Walburga’s portrait.

They were both lying on their backs on the blanket again. None of them spoke. They had gradually, without any of them noticing, inched closer to each other and were lying only four or five inches apart. They both had their hands by their sides, and at some point Draco felt his little finger brushing against Potter’s. Draco didn’t know which of them had moved their hand closer to the other. What he did care about was the fluttering, tickling sensation in his stomach and his rapidly increasing pulse. He didn’t move. Neither did Potter. Draco wondered what Potter was thinking. If he was thinking that Draco had moved his hand closer to Potter’s, or if Potter had, in fact, moved his hand closer to Draco’s on purpose. Regardless, none of them moved. That is, until Draco moved his little finger just a tiny bit, no more than a tenth of an inch or so, and let it brush Potter’s lightly. Draco felt Potter’s finger twitch but he didn’t move it away. After a few minutes Draco felt Potter’s finger slide upwards, covering a part of Draco’s. They lay like that for another couple of minutes until Draco nudged his little finger a bit further underneath Potter’s, so Potter’s was covering his. Draco didn’t dare move and hardly dared breathe out of fear that Potter might come to his senses and move away. Because, who was Draco kidding, really? He liked laying there, his finger touching Potter’s. He really did try not to like it and he knew he ought to withdraw it. But he couldn’t. Because then the nice sensation in his stomach might vanish, and he didn’t want that. After another couple of minutes Potter moved his finger just a little bit more, and their little fingers ended up entwined. They lay like that, not talking, not moving, until dawn when Potter sat up and carefully removed his finger from on top of Draco’s without mention. Draco rubbed his neck as he sat up. Potter yawned. A big, heartfelt yawn accompanied by a stretch.

“For heaven’s sake, Potter, cover your mouth. You are such a barbarian,” Draco said before yawning himself – covering his mouth, of course.

“Sorry, your highness,” Potter answered, rubbing his eyes.

“You are forgiven,” Draco said.

Potter smiled drowsily at him and Draco’s stomach responded by doing a flip flop.

Draco cleared his throat. “So, let’s just get this over with,” he said, and they began gathering the dew drops.

As they were carefully gathering the drops in their jars, Draco discovered, much to his chagrin, that he was hyper aware of every little movement Potter made with his hands, and every time their hands accidentally touched (which was nearly inevitable because of the limited space), Draco felt his stomach flutter.

After having gathered the necessary amount they both went to put the dew drops in the ingredients’ cupboard, picking up the Pepper-ups from Slughorn’s office on the way back.

*

Harry hurriedly showered and put on some fresh robes. He drank the Pepper-up and went to the common room to walk to breakfast with Ron and Hermione.

“Where on earth were you last night, Harry?” Hermione greeted him. “Ron said your bed hasn’t been slept in.”

“Detention,” Harry answered.

“The entire night?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Slughorn wanted us to gather some dewdrops from some plant that could only be gathered at dawn. We wanted to go back to the common room and wait to go down there till dawn, but Slughorn was afraid we might miss it. Stupid idiot.”

“So you were out in the cold for nearly eleven hours? It’s October. You must have been freezing,” Hermione said.

“Wasn’t too bad,” Harry said. “I mean, it wasn’t too cold walking down, because we had our arms around each other.”

Both Ron and Hermione stopped. “You had your arms around each other?” Ron asked.

“Yeah. Malfoy was supporting me because of the boils,” Harry said as if it were obvious. “They were really vicious last night despite the Murtlap. I definitely wouldn’t have made it to detention on time if he hadn’t supported me on the way to the dungeons.”

“He supported you to the dungeons as well?” Hermione asked. “That was… nice of him.”

“It was,” Harry agreed, and they began walking again. “Anyway, it took about three hours to get from the dungeons to the forest because I had to stop all the time.”

“Ouch,” Ron said. “It must have been really bad.”

“Oh, it was,” Harry answered, nodding.

“So, what did you do for the rest of the time?” Hermione asked.

“Well, when we got to the edge of the forest I was a complete mess from the pain, so Malfoy conjured a blanket and helped me down to lie on my stomach and distracted me until the boils disappeared. Then we just lay on the blanket and watched the stars and talked until dawn.” He consciously left out the part where they had almost held hands. “As detentions go – it wasn’t bad.”

“So you just… lay there? Together? Talking? The entire night?” Ron said, sounding like he had a hard time believing it.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It was nice,” he added and smiled to himself.

Both Ron and Hermione stared at him; Ron shocked and Hermione puzzled.

“But… That has to be about seven hours, Harry,” Hermione said.

“Yes, that sounds about right,” Harry said.

“You were lying next to Malfoy on a blanket, stargazing and talking. _For seven hours_?” Ron repeated.

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, frowning at the sound of astonishment in their voices. “He threw a warming charm over us so it wasn’t cold.”

Ron and Hermione both stopped walking again. Harry kept on walking for couple of feet before he realised they had stopped.

He looked back at them and frowned. “What?”

“That almost qualifies as a date, mate,” Ron said, grinning.

Harry blushed, remembering the near-hand-holding. His stomach made a flip flop as he remembered his little finger on top of Malfoy’s. “It wasn’t. It was detention.” He started walking again and they followed.

“We realise that, Harry. But if you look at it objectively, not having been the person doing the detention, you will see that Ron is right,” Hermione said.

“I won’t. I don’t see that,” Harry said – even though he did.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said, “We’re not suggesting that it _was_ a date; merely that you were doing things that, for instance, I would enjoy doing, should anyone ever invite me on a date.”

Ron looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes and blushed slightly. “Yeah, mate, I mean – “ he began counting on his fingers: “- You walked to the forest with your arms around each other, he brought a blanket and helped you lie down on it, he threw a warming charm over _both_ of you, and you then lay next to each other on the blanket under the stars on a clear, very starry night and talked until dawn.”

“For the record:” Harry said, “He didn’t _bring_ a blanket. He _conjured_ it. And he only threw the warming charm because he didn’t want to get lynched if I died of pneumonia.”

Ron snorted, seemingly not having listened to Harry’s reasoning. “Hell, all you needed was hand-holding and it _would_ be a date.”

Harry blanched and then blushed immediately after, but didn’t think Ron noticed. He wasn’t so sure about Hermione who threw him would-be discreet sideward glances as they walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall.

“I need to find Ginny,” Harry said, scanning the Gryffindor table.

Ron pointed toward the far end of the table. “Over there with Neville,” he said.

“Oh excellent,” Harry said and began walking towards her quickly.

“What’s the rush, mate?” Ron asked.

“We haven’t had sex for a week, Ron,” Harry said, ignoring Ron’s groan. “I’m famished.”

When Harry reached the end of the table where Ginny and Neville were sitting in deep conversation about some plant or other, he rudely interrupted, pulling Ginny up and out of her seat. She looked at him questioningly.

“They’re gone,” he said, which was all the explanation she needed, before they both all but ran out of the Great Hall together.

This time Harry didn’t suggest they go to his dorm; he dragged her directly to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, which was unoccupied as always. He didn’t waste time talking but went directly to one of the sinks, pushing Ginny gently between the shoulder blades and bending her over the bowl. She leaned in and rested her hands on the edge of the bowl and let Harry take the lead. Harry bent down and pulled her robes up over her hips. Ginny quickly unfastened them and pulled them off entirely. Harry lifted up her skirt and pulled her knickers to her knees. He then placed a hand on her back and pushed her further down so her arms and forehead rested on the edge of the bowl. Harry dropped to his knees and nudged at her legs, making her spread them slightly. He then stuck out his tongue and licked her front to back, grazing her clit with the tip of his tongue, dipping into her cunt, tasting her wetness. He let his tongue slide further backwards, letting it massage her puckered hole. Ginny whimpered. Harry stood back up and pushed two fingers into her cunt, once, twice. As he continued to hold her down with his hand on her back, he pulled up his own robes, unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock which he let slide into her in one hard thrust that made Ginny moan from pleasure. He felt Ginny move her hips and meet his thrusts. It didn’t take long. After all, he had been celibate for a week, not even having been able to wank. After less than a minute, Harry was emptying his fluids inside her. He stood for a moment, panting, until his now limp cock decided to pull out. Ginny raised her head, and he looked at her in the mirror. She gave him a sated smile, and he gave her one back.

“Which classes do you have today?” he asked.

“History of Magic and Herbology. You?”

“Herbology and Divination. Can you skip?”

“Absolutely!”

“All of them?” Harry asked, sounding hopeful.

“I’ll probably have to go to Herbology class, but that isn’t until one,” Ginny said again.

“Excellent.”

They quickly got themselves sorted and ran to the 7th years’ accommodations. As soon as the portrait hole closed behind them, they met in a rough kiss, and Harry urged Ginny backwards towards the Gryffindor boys’ dorm never breaking the kiss, and undressing each other as much as was possible while snogging and walking.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed a figure lying on the couch in front of the fire. A slender figure with pale skin and platinum blonde hair. Harry felt an inexplicable surge of further arousal, which was disturbing but not entirely unpleasant.

“Silencing charm?” Ginny asked when the door closed behind them.

“Fuck it,” Harry answered. “No-one’s here anyway.”

Harry didn’t know what it was about Malfoy that made him act so irrationally. He did know that right now, being aware of Malfoy’s presence on the other side of the door as Harry was about to have sex was extremely arousing.

He threw Ginny down on the bed and straddled her, running his hands across her belly and up her sides. He tugged at the hem of her blouse and they helped each other pull it over her head. Blouse gone, Harry proceeded running his fingers over her body, grazing her neck, shoulders and arms, and sliding further down across her breasts, making sure to brush the nipples through the fabric of her bra. Harry felt her breath hitch. He un-straddled her and lay down on top of her instead; kissing her, sucking and biting her lips, kissing along her jaw line back towards her ear, sucking in her earlobe, placing open-mouthed kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. He pulled at her bra, releasing her breasts and flicked her nipples with his tongue and fingers. He sucked in a nipple and twirled his tongue around it while pinching the other nipple between two fingers. Ginny whimpered and panted. Harry kissed his way further down her belly, dipping his tongue in her navel. Ginny spread her legs and Harry lodged between them. He took a moment to stroke her inner thighs before he let his tongue slide slowly from her crevice to her cunt and over her clit. He was split between making it last and making it quick. In the end she decided for him.

“Quit dallying, Harry. Get on with it.”

Without moving his head away, he grinned and chuckled, making Ginny shiver. “Yes ma’am.”

He put his lips to her clit and sucked it in, making her moan. He sucked on it hard while flicking it with his tongue, all the while thrusting two fingers in and out of her. He let his middle finger slide downwards, massaging the small puckered hole. He gently pushed and slowly inserted one digit into her back-entrance, using the wetness from her cunt as lubricant.

“Another one?” Harry mumbled into her crotch.

“Yes,” Ginny said airily.

So Harry carefully pushed in another digit and pushed his thumb into her cunt. He held his fingers still inside her. He moved his other hand up Ginny’s belly, up to her breast and began pinching the nipple and massaging the breast. After a short while of sucking her clit while pinching her nipple and fingers moving in and out of her arse and cunt, Ginny came with a loud groan. Harry let her ride out her orgasm and then lifted his head up and smiled at her, receiving a lopsided smile in return. He continued to work his fingers in and out of her bum, eventually adding a third.

“Get on your stomach,” he told her while removing his fingers.

Ginny turned around to lie flat on her stomach. She spread her legs slightly and bent her knees, waggling her feet in the air. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder.

“How do you want me, Mr. Potter?” she asked seductively.

“On your knees and elbows,” Harry answered, his voice thick with arousal.

Ginny obliged and got up on her knees, bending forward and rested her forehead on her forearms. Harry ran his hands over her arched back and down to grab hold of her buttocks. He carefully inserted first one, then two and three fingers into her bum and made some scissoring movements. Then he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Yes,” Ginny answered.

Harry began pushing slowly. He felt her tense up and stopped, massaging her lower back, until she wiggled her bum a bit to show that it was okay for him to continue. When he was in her to the root, he stilled again for a few moments and then started thrusting. Gently to begin with, and then gradually faster and harder. Ginny was making keening noises and Harry was moaning, groaning and grunting loudly. The headboard of the bed was slamming into the wall at a rapidly increasing speed. Harry was holding on to her hips, pulling them towards him when he thrusted. He didn’t reach down to massage Ginny’s breasts or rub her clit like he had the last time they did this. Instead he was (almost) reluctantly imagining watching his own cock pound into Malfoy again and again. He imagined Malfoy making the keening noises and Harry’s hand stroking Malfoy’s cock as Harry fucked him. Subconsciously Harry knew that he should be thinking about his girlfriend and not his archenemy. However, the images of Malfoy just kept coming at a steady flow, and there really was nothing Harry could do to stop them even though he (sort of) really tried very hard, so he reasoned he had no choice but to allow them to penetrate his brain and go with the flow. At least that is what he told himself. After a particularly vivid image of Malfoy coming into Harry’s hand, Harry came with a loud “Ungh” and a mewling sort of sound. He shook violently as he emptied himself inside Ginny for the second time that day.

They had sex twice more after that. One time slow and lazy and the other frantic and loud, during which Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley made their appearance.

As Harry pinned down Ginny’s wrists over her head and said “come for me, Ms. Weasley,” Ginny came with a loud cry of “ _Mr. Potter_ ”.

After lying next to each other for a while, Harry looked at his watch.

“You have time to run down and get some lunch if you want,” he told her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Quarter past twelve.”

“Oh, shit, I have to go,” Ginny said, jumping out of the bed and starting to put on her clothes. “If I have to get lunch _and_ get to the greenhouses on time I’ll need to hurry.”

Harry lay watching her for a bit and then put on a pair of boxers and his jeans and tee-shirt. He held the door open for her as the left the dorm.

“How about you?” she asked when they reached the portrait hole. “Aren’t you going to get lunch? You must be starving – you didn’t even have breakfast.”

Harry chuckled. “If I go down there, you can be sure Hermione will try to convince me to go to class, even if it _is_ divination. And having been up all night I could use to not go to class. Maybe I can get Dobby to bring by some lunch.”

“Well if they ask about you I’ll just say we went for a quickie at Moaning Myrtle’s and you went to bed after because you were too tired.”

“Thanks Gin,” Harry said. “See you tonight?”

“Yeah, if you’re sure?” Ginny said, suddenly sounding uncertain. “It didn’t go too well last Friday,” she said as she looked down, frowning.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry said and smiled, and Ginny beamed at him.

“I’ll see you then,” she said and turned and hurried out of the portrait hole.

“Taking advantage of school elves so you can have sex during class,” Malfoy said as Harry turned around. “Four hours straight, Potter – that can’t be healthy.”

Harry saw Malfoy still stretching on the sofa in front of the fire and Harry went over to sit in one of the armchairs also surrounding the fireplace.

“Skipping class?” Harry said. “Tsk tsk tsk. Whatever would your mother say?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Really? Look who’s talking.”

“Yes, well at least I had a good excuse. What’s yours?”

Malfoy cocked his head. “I was following the Great Harry Potter to listen to him having sex. Again. It’s what I do,” he said with a slight smile.

Harry blushed but merely rolled his eyes. “Are you hungry?”

“A bit,” Malfoy answered.

“Kreacher,” Harry called, and with a ‘pop’ Kreacher was standing in front of him.

“ _Master has summoned Kreacher to his school full of halfbloods and mudbloods_ ,” he mumbled audibly under his breath. “ _Master is a halfblood himself. Master’s mother was a mudblood. The Dark Lord took care of her, he did._ ”

“Knock it off, Kreacher,” Harry said. “Go find Dobby, would you? And ask him to pop by if he has the time.”

“Kreacher is happy to do as Master wishes,” Kreacher said sweetly and then muttered under his breath: “ _Kreacher is bound to Master and must do as he commands, but Kreacher would much rather have the young Malfoy as a Master, with his beautiful complexion and aristocratic appearance befitting a wizard of the purest blood_.”

Harry cleared his throat and Kreacher bowed and vanished with a ‘pop’ only to reappear seconds later alongside a beaming Dobby.

“Mr. Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is honoured to be summoned to do your service. Dobby will do whatever Mr. Harry Potter asks him to,” Dobby said, still beaming and bowing deeply. “Dobby will throw himself off the highest tower and into the deepest ocean to help the Famous Harry Potter, sir.” Dobby straightened up a bit and stood in a half-bow with his hands folded, looking up at Harry with huge, adoring eyes.

Harry blushed, glancing over to the sofa where Malfoy had sat up and was watching the two elves and Harry with a mixture of surprise, amusement and incredulity painted on his face.

“Um, thank you, Dobby. That… won’t be necessary,” Harry said and turned to Malfoy. “Malfoy if you want to send a message back with Kreacher just go ahead.” Then he turned to Kreacher. “Kreacher, if Mr. Malfoy would like to pass a message on to his mother that’s fine. You may not pass on the message to anybody else. You may not twist his words or leave things out. You may not tell anybody else than Mrs. Malfoy that you were here.” He thought for a moment and then turned towards Malfoy again. “Perhaps you should just write something down instead – leaves less room for interpretation.” Malfoy stared at him, this time looking purely surprised.

It wasn’t till then that Kreacher realised that Malfoy was there. He gasped and all but dived through the room and threw himself at Malfoy’s feet, kissing the hem of his cloak while holding on to his feet. Malfoy looked horrified and Harry couldn’t help snickering as the disgusted and slightly panicked looking Slytherin pulled at his robes, trying to free himself of the doting elf.

“Kreacher, stop it,” Harry said. “Just pull yourself together and get the message from Malfoy, yeah? No more cuddling and kissing.”

“Kreacher is happy to pass on a message to Miss Cissa from her son, the young and noble Malfoy heir,” Kreacher said and added: “ _Kreacher’s poor Miss Cissa lives in her ancestral house as a guest. The halfbloods and mudbloods and bloodtraitors treat it as their own and defile the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Kreacher’s mistress would have him killed out of mercy if she were alive_.”

“Enough, Kreacher,” Harry said. “When Mr. Malfoy has given you the message to deliver to – Miss Cissa – you are to return to Gri… to the Black family house. If Miss Cissa would like to send a message back to her son, that’s fine. You may not read or in any other way try to gain access to the contents of any of these notes. You may also not show them to anybody else. Got it?”

“Kreacher will do as Master commands,” Kreacher said and bowed.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry said and turned to Dobby. “Dobby, I would like you to fetch some lunch for me and Malfoy. Just something easy. Don’t go to a lot of trouble.”

“Dobby will fetch lunch for Harry Potter and the little Master. The little Master was never cruel to Dobby, and Dobby will be glad to bring him food.” Dobby disapparated with a ‘pop’.

Harry turned to Malfoy who had begun writing a letter. “’The little Master’?” Harry said and snickered.

Malfoy didn’t look up but his ears took colour. “Yes, well. _Someone_ freed him before I became old enough to be ‘the young master’.”

Right then, Dobby reappeared with a tray laden with food. It appeared that his conception of ‘something easy’ was somewhat different from Harry’s. There were cucumber sandwiches, cheese and pickle sandwiches, egg and cress sandwiches, toast with butter, various jams, rolls, sausages, a variety of pastries, cupcakes and biscuits, a jug of pumpkin juice, a pot of tea, a pot of coffee and milk, cream and sugar.

“Um, thanks Dobby,” Harry said. “That was very kind of you.”

“Dobby is as always happy to serve the Great Harry Potter.”

Harry blushed, and he heard Malfoy snort.

“Thank you Dobby, you can go now.”

Dobby bowed low and disapparated.

Harry carried the tray to the coffee table in front of the sofa Malfoy was sitting on and sat down in the opposite end, just as Malfoy finished his letter.

When Kreacher had taken the letter and disapparated, Malfoy looked up. “That has to be the ultimate level of laziness, Potter. Honestly, summoning a house elf to get him to summon another elf so you don’t have to go down for lunch.”

“I do believe it was justified in this case,” Harry answered. “I really didn’t fancy being forced to go to class by Hermione. That woman is unrelenting. So really, it was self-preservation. Being a Slytherin, you must understand that concept? I had to do it in order for us to survive. What kind of saviour would I be if I let you die of hunger? Now shut up and eat.”

Malfoy shook his head but grabbed a sandwich from the tray. He sat up straight, holding a plate to catch the crumbs, looking, as Kreacher had so fittingly pointed out, aristocratic. Harry, slouching in the sofa, hid a grin behind his sandwich.

After they had both indulged in the lunch brought by Dobby and the tray had magically disappeared, Harry and Malfoy sat in silence in front of the fire.

“Thank you,” Malfoy said, and Harry knew he wasn’t talking about the food.

“No problem.”

“I seem destined to be rescued once and again by Saint Potter,” he said, scowling.

“Yeah, well, I have to do _something_ while I’m not out there slaying dark lords.”

Malfoy snorted and they once again resolved to silence.

“Are we getting along, Malfoy?” Harry asked after a while.

“I don’t know,” Malfoy answered.

“Neither do I.”

“I don’t like it,” Malfoy said.

Harry turned his head to look at him. Malfoy was sitting with his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face. “Why not?” Harry asked. He actually thought it was kind of nice.

“It’s unsettling,” Malfoy said. “Like order needs to be restored.”

Something dawned on Harry, and he turned his body to face Malfoy, propping his leg up on the sofa. “Is that what that fight on Monday was about? I’ve been wondering what that was.”

It took a moment for Malfoy to answer – as if he was considering something.

“I guess you could say that. And it worked out fine until you started snogging me. That was completely counterproductive.”

Harry spluttered. “Excuse me but I did not start snogging you. I specifically recall you sticking your tongue in my mouth first.”

“That was entirely to assess the damage you did when attacking my lip, you savage. And you know it, too.”

Harry blushed. Because he _did_ know. “Maybe we should just not talk about it.”

“Fine by me.”

They both stared into the fire for a while.

“So… What do you propose we do?” Harry asked.

“About what?” Malfoy asked, looking suspicious.

“Restoring order. I mean, should we fight or something? I’d be quite happy to punch you in the face again.”

Malfoy snorted. “I bet you would.” He frowned again. “I just want to make clear, Potter; I don’t like you. I don’t hate you, I may not even strongly dislike you, but I also don’t like you.”

Harry was surprised to feel a pang of hurt at that statement.

“Well the feeling is mutual, Malfoy,” he spat. “What’s your point?”

“I’m working my way there. I think,” Malfoy said. “I haven’t hated our detentions together. I may even have enjoyed a minimal amount of them.”

Harry felt a small smile form on his lips.

“I think,” Malfoy continued, “that we should keep the getting along to the detentions and during Potions. Maybe pick a fight once in a while. Throw a punch on occasion. But no post-fight snogging under any circumstance.”

“I can do that,” Harry said, though with a frown. “You know, it almost sounds like you don’t want anyone to know that you don’t hate or strongly dislike me.”

If Harry didn’t know better, he would have said that Malfoy was blushing as he got up from the sofa.

“As you said, Potter; I’m a Slytherin,” Malfoy said. “We’re all about self-preservation.” He turned around and walked towards the Slytherin dorm. “Thank you for lunch.”

Harry frowned. He had absolutely no idea what that meant.

As he turned around to go to the Gryffindor dorm he saw Hermione standing by the portrait hole. Harry froze and blanched at the sight of her. She didn’t smile but also didn’t look angry or upset. Just serious.

“Um…” Harry began. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Something about slaying dark lords,” she said. “And long enough for some things to fall into place.”

“Oh,” Harry said. That meant she had heard the thing about the snogging. Twice.

“Why didn’t you let us know you were there?” Harry asked.

“It seemed important that you not be interrupted,” she said. “Harry, do we need to talk?”

“I’d really rather not right now,” he said.

“All right,” she said. “I just want you to know that Ginny is still my friend even though she is acting strangely lately. And Ron’s sister. And I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“I’m not planning on hurting her,” Harry said.

“Good,” Hermione answered. “Don’t string her along if there’s someone else you’re interested in. She may not act appropriately but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to either.”

“There isn’t someone else. I don’t know what you mean, Hermione,” Harry said.

“We both heard what he said about the self-preservation. I think you should take it seriously.”

“I don’t even know what that meant, Hermione,” Harry said. “What are you even doing here?”

“I did an extracurricular assignment in Arithmancy that Professor Vector wanted me to show the class. Speaking of – what are _you_ doing here?”

“I thought I deserved to skip since I was up all night,” Harry answered. “It was entirely by coincidence that Malfoy was here, too. And there’s no point in trying to get me to go to class now, Hermione. They’re already halfway through Divination now. So I’ll just go take a nap or something.” He made for the dorm but turned around as his hand was on the handle. “And I’ll have you know, Ginny and I made up.”

She gave him a small smile. “Good. I’m glad.” She looked pensive. “You do know I just want you to be happy, right?”

“Of course,” he said, somewhat puzzled. “Likewise.” He smiled at her and left the common room. He lay back on his bed, thinking about Malfoy, Ginny, Hermione and self-preservation.

*

Draco was satisfied with the agreement he had come to with Potter about them not being on too friendly terms. He didn’t really dislike Potter all that much these days and would even go so far as to say that he could be good company at times. However, Draco was fairly certain that if he wasn’t careful, the relatively innocent fluttering, tickling sensation he sometimes got in his stomach around Potter, might develop into a not so innocent sensation. And that was just not on. So in order to prevent that, he would have to practice self-preservation. Luckily Potter didn’t seem to have taken that hint. Not that Draco had expected him to.

All in all; their mutual agreement of general minor dislike or just disinterest and the occasional fight suited Draco fine. That was why he wasn’t uncomfortable sitting next to Potter at the Friday night game, and he was certain the heat and the tickling sensation in his stomach was due to sitting close to the fireplace and to the fact that he had had a rather larger amount of sweets at lunch than usual.

The Weaselette was there again but had positioned herself between Blaise and Boot directly across from Potter. Potter tried not to look displeased about it, but judging from Blaise’s somewhat nervous expression, Draco was fairly certain that Potter was shooting daggers at him. At the same time the Weaselette was shooting daggers at _Draco_ , though for the love of Merlin Draco couldn’t understand why. So much for her and Potter’s making up earlier that same day.

Granger was sitting in clear view of Draco and kept shooting glances at him as if she _knew_ something. It was unsettling.

As the group of students began their intake of firewhiskey the mood loosened and the dagger-shooting lessened on both Potter’s and the Weaselette’s part, though it did not disappear entirely. Meanwhile, Blaise became more daring and a lot more handsy towards the Weaselette (though to a degree that was still mostly innocent), which she seemed to enjoy. Though he still seemed wary of Potter.

After a couple of turns Draco was dared to hold hands with Potter for the rest of the evening. Draco’s stomach did an unwelcome somersault. Potter flinched when their fingers first intertwined but otherwise didn’t let on if he was affected by it, except maybe a slight blush creeping up his neck. But that could have been the heat from the fire, Draco reasoned.

The dares seemed to be getting racier as the evening progressed; and a lot racier than the last couple of Fridays. There was tit-sucking, – Weasley/Abbott, Female Weasley/Smith, Patil-twin/Bones, Female Weasley/Boot, Granger/Thomas, Female Weasley/Longbottom, the other Patil-twin/Draco, and Female Weasley/Blaise (Potter had hated that one even more than the others but hadn’t said anything – Smith seemed to have a thing for making dares involving the Weaselette’s tits (understandably, because they _were_ very nice, freckles aside) – dry-humping, love-biting and long, heated snogging sessions. And then…

“Potter, truth or dare?” Smith asked.

“Dare,” Potter sighed.

“I dare you to give Malfoy a handjob. And to receive one from him.”

Draco’s jaw dropped, as did Potter’s, the Weaselette’s, the Weasel’s and Granger’s. The other reactions varied between amusement, incredulity, excitement and eagerness.

“WHAT?” Draco, Potter and the Weaselette shouted as one.

“I said…” Smith began.

“I heard what you said, you prick,” Potter spat. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Oh come on,” Smith said. “It was just a matter of time before one of the dares involved hands-on action. You being the Great Chosen Boy Who Lived to Save Us All might as well show off some of that legendary Gryffindor bravery. Unless you’re scared.”

“You know, Smith,” Potter said, “for a Hufflepuff, you’re a right prick. But then again; Hufflepuff was the one who took _both_ the faithful and hardworking _and_ the ones no other house wanted – no offense Ernie, Hannah, Susan. I guess you just fit under the last category, Smith.”

“None taken,” was the general opinion of the other Hufflepuffs.

“Fuck you, Zach,” the Weaselette said. “I’m not going to have sex for a week now. Again.”

“What?” Potter asked, frowning.

“Well, because you’re obviously not going to do it,” she said firmly.

“Why not?” Potter asked.

The Weaselette raised her eyebrows at him. “Because it’s cheating, Harry.”

Potter also raised his eyebrows. “Says the girl who just had four different blokes suck her tits _and_ had two very heated snogging sessions with two other guys. Involving _voluntary_ boob and arse groping.”

“That is _so_ different, Harry,” she countered. “That didn’t involve hands on genitals.”

“True,” Potter said, “but need I remind you of last Friday where you were practically begging, nay _ordering_ , me to put my fingers inside your friend?”

The group of students were watching the word exchange like a ping pong match in complete silence.

The Weaselette seemed to have dropped the ball. “That’s… It… Oh for heaven’s sake Harry just take the stupid boils. Honestly, how hard can it be?”

If possible, Potter’s eyebrows rose even further. He let out a laugh of incredulity. “Last week you were practically ready to murder me when I chose the boils and you’ve been moody all week because of them. If you’re trying to convince me you won’t be upset all of next week just because of several hours of sex today –,“ people gasped and snickered and the Weasel hid his face in his hands “- you are sorely mistaken if you think I’ll believe it. And I bet you Smith’s are going to sting a lot worse than Parkinson’s. And I also bet you there’ll be no niceties as to relieving me of them early – and by the way, thank you for that, Parkinson. I think I might have died if they hadn’t gone away when they did.” Pansy nodded a silent ‘you’re welcome’.

“Zach wouldn’t do that, would you, Zach?” the Weaselette asked.

“Of course not, Ginny,” Smith replied and smiled at her sweetly. “Of course not, Potter.” There was nothing sweet about the smile he gave Potter.

“I won’t do it Ginny, so save it,” Potter said.

“Fine,” she said, not looking fine. “Malfoy will, won’t you Malfoy?”

Draco frowned as he looked at her. “Absolutely not!”

“Excuse me?” She said.

“I said ‘absolutely not’,” Draco answered. “I mean, granted, Weaselette; you are a very attractive young lady and I’m sure some wouldn’t mind getting their arse covered in boils to see you smile and bat your eyes at them, but having seen your boyfriend go through what he went through last night, there’s no way I’m going to pick that option for you, even if it means having some bloke hold my cock. And I’m also not doing the neon-writing.”

The Weaselette held her hands up. “Fine,” she said, still not looking fine. “If you want to get off on each other, please do so.”

“Fine,” Potter said.

“Fine,” the Weaselette said again.

Potter stood. He and Draco were still holding hands, and Potter yanked Draco to his feet. They let go of each other’s hands.

“We would like to retreat to one of the dorms,” Potter said. Draco nodded in agreement.

“But how will we know you completed the task?” Pansy asked, and Draco narrowed her eyes, glaring at her.

“A gentlemen’s agreement?” Potter asked hopefully.

“Not bloody likely,” Smith said, and Potter glared at him.

“I’ll cast a charm that shows sparks according to emotional and sexual activity. I can make it so that the sparks show outside the dorm, and we’ll be able to see when you… you know… climax,” Granger said, blushing slightly. “It will also tell us if you somehow try to cheat – say, if you decide to just do it to yourselves.” She smiled at them warmly.

“Thank you, Hermione,” Potter said, sounding less than thankful, “for being so thorough.”

Weasley let out an involuntary snicker, and Potter glared at him. “Really, Ron? You, of all people.”

“I’ve decided to see the funny side of it,” Weasley said and shrugged. Potter rolled his eyes.

The two boys began moving towards the Gryffindor dorm, when Draco halted. “Potter, you should give a dare before you go in. I mean, who knows how long you’ll be. You had sex for four hours straight today.”

Potter blanched, and Draco belatedly realised that what he had just said. No-one seemed to have noticed, though, except maybe Granger. But she just gave him that look of interest mixed with puzzlement and pondering that she had been giving him a lot lately. And Blaise, but he didn’t say anything. The Weaselette just kept on glaring at him, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so Draco thought nothing of it. Apparently neither did Potter.

“You’re right, Malfoy,” he said. “Smith, truth or dare?”

After Potter had dared smith to sit naked with bows in his hair and around his cock for the rest of the game, Granger flicked her wand at them to do the sparks-charm, and they went to the Gryffindor dorm.

Neither Harry nor Draco saw Pansy flick her wand in their direction.

*

Harry was nervous. As the door to the dorm closed behind them it was suddenly more real than it had been in the common room.

“Um,” Harry said while fidgeting with his hands in front of him.

“So…” Malfoy responded.

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“Um,” Malfoy offered helpfully.

“So…” Harry said, beginning to sense a pattern.

After a while, Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Potter. You’re the host. Offer me a place to sit or something. Or a shot of firewhiskey if you have any.”

“Oh, sorry, yes,” Harry said. “Um, you – you can sit on that bed. It’s mine.”

“So I figured,” Malfoy answered dryly and sat down with his hands in his lap.

“Hang on a sec,” Harry said and poked his head out the door.

He was met with snickers, cheers, wolf whistles and ‘so soons’.

“Oh, ha ha,” Harry said. “Could we have one of the bottles of firewhiskey? Just the half full one.”

He dared a glance in Ginny’s direction and sent her a careful smile, which she, to his surprise, returned. With a wink, even. Harry blinked in surprise but became a bit more at ease. Seamus tossed the bottle of firewhiskey, and Harry caught it.

“Thanks.” He entered the dorm again and shut the door. Then he turned to face Malfoy and stuck out the bottle. “There you go, a seat and a drink. Is there anything else I can get you, your Majesty?” Harry thought that he might as well lighten the mood if they were going to… do what they had to do. It wasn’t that he detested the thought of Malfoy’s hand on his cock – it was mainly the thought that he didn’t detest it that disturbed him deeply.

“No, thank you, minion,” Malfoy said, taking a large swig. He passed the bottle on to Harry who accepted it and also took a large gulp.

Harry snorted. “I didn’t know that it’s custom to thank minions.”

“It’s not,” Malfoy answered. “I’m a very lenient master.”

Harry chuckled. “Indeed you are.”

Harry sat down on the bed next to Malfoy. They both took another swig.

“Well, here we are,” Harry said.

“Yes, here we are,” Malfoy answered.

“So… How do you want to do this?” Harry asked, nervously. He had begun fidgeting again.

“Why do I have to decide?” Malfoy asked.

“You just pointed out that I’m the host. I’m doing the polite thing and letting my guest decide.”

Malfoy pouted. “But we also decided that you’re my minion. And I say _you_ decide.”

“Let’s get straight,” Harry said, pointing his index finger at Malfoy, “that _we_ did not decide to make me your minion. That was entirely you.”

“That may be, Potter, but you’ve never contradicted me. And I say _you_ decide. Or at least share your thoughts.”

“All right, fine. Whatever,” Harry relented, sensing that they were getting nowhere with their current conversation. He thought for a while. “Okay, well, the whiskey doesn’t seem to be working as fast as I thought it would. So I say we both take three large mouthfuls and then stand on our heads.”

Malfoy stared at Harry as if he had just sprouted another head. “Are you mad? There’s no way I’m going to stand on my head. Idiot. Why would I do that?”

“I’ve seen my cousin and his friends do it – or attempt to do it – when they wanted the alcohol to work more effectively,” Harry answered.

“I’m not standing on my head. Forget it,” Malfoy said.

“Okay, well. We could also just lie on our backs on the bed with our upper bodies and heads over the edge. That might work as well.”

Malfoy shook his head and stared at him. “You know, Potter, I’ve known for over six years that you were mad as a hatter, but it’s really starting to manifest.”

Harry huffed. “Well, _you_ think of something then,” he said and crossed his arms.

There was silence for a while. Then Malfoy threw out his arms and rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’ll do the bed-thing.”

So they did. When they were lying on their backs on Harry’s bed, Malfoy asked: “What is it I’m supposed to be feeling?”

“Just wait a second,” Harry said. “Sit up now.”

They both sat up and Harry was overcome by a sudden dizziness.

“Shit!” Malfoy exclaimed, holding a hand to his temple. “It really did work. You know, that wasn’t a horrible idea for an underling.”

Harry snorted. “Such words of praise.”

“Okay, so that’s done. What now?” Malfoy asked.

“Do I have to think of everything?” Harry asked in return.

Malfoy frowned and looked at Harry as if he was dense. “Yes, Potter. We established that already.”

Harry sighed. “Fine, um, sit across from me.”

They both moved to sit cross legged on the bed across from each other. They stared at each other for a bit. Harry’s tummy was overflowing with butterflies and the feeling one gets when missing a step down a stair. He reached out and laid his palm on Malfoy’s jaw, running his thumb over his cheek.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, leaning in.

Harry saw Malfoy’s eyes draw to his lips. Harry parted his lips slightly and Malfoy did the same. Malfoy also leaned in. Their faces were a mere inch apart and Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath ghost over his lips, sending shivers down his spine.

“Potter,” Malfoy said in a low voice, not much more than a whisper.

Malfoy reached up and removed Harry’s glasses. Even deprived of his glasses, Harry could see Malfoy’s eyes clearly: Silvery grey with little flecks of blue. Beautiful. Malfoy closed his eyes and Harry followed by example. When Harry leaned in even further, Malfoy met him halfway, and their lips met. Harry felt the butterflies burst in full attack as he felt the tip of Malfoy’s tongue touch his carefully. They both opened their mouths further and let their tongues gently massage each other. It wasn’t like any of the other kisses they had shared; it was tender, soft and sort of anticipating. Malfoy let his arms slide under Harry’s arms and around his back and pulled at him, and Harry let both his palms rest on Malfoy’s shoulders as he got up on his knees to move closer. Malfoy got up on his knees as well, and they stood flush against each other. Malfoy let his hands slide down Harry’s sides and up and down his back as Harry held on to Malfoy’s upper arms. Harry broke the kiss and proceeded to place small kisses along Malfoy’s jaw and down his neck. He nibbled at Malfoy’s earlobe and sucked at the soft skin on the neck underneath the lobe. Malfoy whimpered and Harry let out a deep, quiet moan at the sound. He continued to suck at Malfoy’s neck as he drew back a bit and let his hands run down Malfoy’s torso. He felt Malfoy’s muscles flex under his shirt as Harry ran his hands over his stomach. He hesitated when his hands touched the top of Malfoy’s belt. When Malfoy whimpered again, Harry let his palm slide down further to cup Malfoy’s erection. Malfoy drew in a sharp breath but didn’t move away. Instead he bucked into Harry’s hand and moaned quietly at the touch. After a few rubs Malfoy pulled back from Harry a bit. Harry opened his eyes and saw Malfoy looking at him through long, blonde eyelashes. His pupils were dilated, darkening his eyes. They looked at each other intensely for a few moments, both breathing heavily, before they all but attacked each other’s mouths. Gone was the tenderness of the initial kiss; their teeth nearly clashed together and they sucked and bit at each other’s lips. Harry grasped frantically at Malfoy’s belt buckle and Malfoy desperately tried to unbutton Harry’s trousers, both with shaking hands. When Harry succeeded in undoing Malfoy’s belt and unzipping his trousers, he immediately stuck his hand down Malfoy’s shorts and took hold of his cock. Malfoy did a sharp intake of breath and made that sexy whimpering noise again.

It wasn’t as weird as Harry had thought it would be – touching another guy’s member. In fact, he didn’t give it much thought at all. He just revelled in the feeling of Malfoy’s warm, throbbing cock in his hand. As Harry slid his hand down Malfoy’s length he felt Malfoy’s hand on his own erection.

“ _Fuck_!” Harry hissed and broke the kiss, resting his forehead in the crook between Malfoy’s neck and shoulder.

“I don’t believe that was part of the dare,” Malfoy said with a shaky voice.

They both chuckled.

Malfoy ran his thumb over Harry’s slit, slicking the head of his cock with pre-come, and Harry hissed again. His head was still resting in the crook of Malfoy’s neck. As Harry palmed the tip of Malfoy’s cock, Malfoy shuddered and let his forehead drop, too, so his head was resting in the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry could feel the heat from Malfoy’s breath on his collarbone. They both started working their hands up and down each other’s lengths, both panting and breathing heavily and thrusting into each other’s fists. At one point Malfoy batted Harry’s hand away. He lined his erection up against Harry’s and took hold of them both.

“Fuck. Merlin. Fucking. Oh my God. Motherf _…_ ”

“Again with the fucking, Potter,” Malfoy panted, sounding rather more unsteady than before. “You’re not – _hiss_ – very good at – ah – taking directions are you.”

A low moan escaped Harry’s throat. “No, ‘m not.” He turned his head so his lips were caressing Malfoy’s neck. He flicked out his tongue and tasted the salty skin there. “I’m better at giving them,” he said in a low voice. “- Mr. Malfoy,” he added in a whisper.

Malfoy hissed at hearing his name spoken like that, and shuddered.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed.

“Language, Malfoy. Behave yourself. Now shut up,” Harry said quietly.

And Malfoy shut up. They were both thrusting into Malfoy’s hand, which he was at the same time working up and down in long, languid strokes.

“Move your hand away,” Harry said after a while and to his surprise, Malfoy did and let his hands rest on Harry’s shoulders instead.

Harry took over where Malfoy had left off, picking up the pace and after a short while he had Malfoy making small keening noises and thrusting vigorously into Harry’s hand. Harry occasionally added a twist to his strokes that caused Malfoy to tighten his grip on Harry’s shoulders. Malfoy moved one of his hands from Harry’s shoulder and down to fondle Harry’s balls, inspiring Harry to do the same to Malfoy, only Harry also moved his middle finger further down to graze Malfoy’s perineum. When Harry felt Malfoy beginning to tense, he stopped stroking and instead tightened his fingers around the base of Malfoy’s cock.

“Potter, what the fuck?” Malfoy said loudly and lifted his head from Harry’s shoulder.

“Say ‘please’,” Harry said.

“Excuse me?” Malfoy said.

“Say ‘please’,” Harry repeated, his lips touching Malfoy’s neck as he spoke.

“I…” Malfoy said.

Harry slowly moved his hand up and slid his palm over the heads of their cocks, slicking them further in pre-come. Malfoy shuddered and whimpered, and Harry once again gripped firmly around the base of their cocks. He lifted his head and looked Malfoy in the eyes through heavy lids.

“I said: Say ‘please’. Mr. Malfoy,” he said in a low and steady voice.

Malfoy gave in. “Please,” he panted.

“Please what?” Harry asked.

“Please let me come.”

Harry obliged. He pumped his hand up and down, and they both thrust into his fist. Both boys leaned in and met in a kiss, and Harry’s eyes fluttered shut. They came at the same time, spilling into Harry’s hand and moaning into each other’s mouths. They let their foreheads rest against each other a while as they caught their breath and then both dropped to the bed to lay on their backs next to each other. Malfoy reached for his wand and cleaned them both up, and they tucked themselves in.

They were lying even closer together than they had been on their detention; touching from shoulder to hand. Harry was mentally kicking himself at the thought that he would very much like to hold Malfoy’s little finger right now. Or preferably even his whole hand. He attributed it to post-coital euphoria. Well, not exactly post-coital. More like post-orgasm. He had heard that orgasms could induce people to do or say strange things that they wouldn’t normally feel like doing or saying. So obviously that must be it. Yes. That was obviously it.

“Potter?” Malfoy said after a while lying in silence.

“Yeah?”

“About detention… You know… The…” Malfoy wiggled his little finger as a silent explanation.

“Didn’t happen,” Harry said.

“Good,” Malfoy replied. “I wonder what he’ll have us do next?”

“Don’t know,” Harry said. “Whatever it is, I expect you to understand it and explain it to me.”

“Well I can try, though I won’t pretend it’s not a hardship trying to explain things so a commoner such as you will actually understand.”

“I know,” Harry answered. “The part of my brains that involve potions and potions related knowledge is dramatically underdeveloped.”

Malfoy chuckled and Harry looked at him and grinned.

Another moment’s silence passed.

“And here we are all getting along again,” Malfoy said.

“I know,” Harry answered. “Should we pick a fight?”

Malfoy sat up. “What would you like to fight about?”

Harry sat up as well. “Don’t know. I’m not really in the mood for a fight.”

Malfoy rubbed his neck and stood up. He frowned and then kicked Harry very hard across the shin.

“ _Ow, what the fuck, Malfoy_?” Harry said loudly, bowing down and caressing his poor shin.

Malfoy had the decency to at least look a little ashamed. “Now you have something to be angry with me about. Now fight me.”

“Excuse me?” Harry said, still rubbing his leg. “ _Now_ I have something to be angry with you about? I have _plenty_ to be angry with you about.”

“I know,” Malfoy said. “And you obviously weren’t going to pick one so I helped you. You ought to thank me.”

“Why do I have to be the one to pick a thing?” Harry asked. “You pick a thing.”

“Okay I will. You bit my lip in Potions. That fucking hurt.”

“Excuse me for pointing out the obvious,” Harry answered, “but you brought that entirely on yourself. _You_ started that fight, _not_ me.”

“I know I did,” Malfoy admitted. “That doesn’t change the fact that you bit me and it fucking hurt. You asked me to pick a thing to fight about. I picked that one. And not to mention what happened after…”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” Harry said, pointing his index finger at Malfoy. “We agreed not to talk about that again.”

“Fine, you want to fight about something else, _you_ pick something.” Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry mirrored him. “I would prefer not to fight at all. I’m just indulging you for some reason because it freaks you out to get along with me.”

“And that is why you make such an excellent minion.”

Harry’s lips quirked up. “See, that there was _you_ lightening the mood, _not_ me. You obviously want to get along as well.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

Malfoy kicked Harry’s other shin.

“ _Ow, Malfoy_.” Harry said. “ _Fine_!” He stood up and punched Malfoy across the cheek.

“ _Fuck, Potter_ ,” Malfoy exclaimed and caressed his cheek. “Why the cheek? You always pick the cheek.”

“Merlin, can I do _anything_ satisfactorily in your opinion?” Harry asked.

Malfoy blushed. A myriad of emotions seemed to cross his face, from embarrassment to amusement. He made some sort of spluttering half-snort, half-laugh.

Harry blushed as well, but a small smile played on his lips. “Apart from _that_ , obviously.”

“You pig,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh come on, you thought it too,” Harry said, grinning.

They couldn’t help snickering. After they sobered up, Malfoy moved to stand right in front of Harry. He grabbed both Harry’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. For a second Harry thought he was going to kiss him.

“Potter, this isn’t going to work,” Malfoy said.

Harry frowned. “What isn’t going to work?”

“This.” He gestured his hand back and forth between them. “This weird getting-along-and-trying-to-not-get-along-thing.”

“But that’s all you,” Harry pointed out. “I think it would be nice to get along. You’re the one getting all weird about it.”

“Could you just…” Malfoy began. “It’s…”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Is this that self-preservation thing again? Because I really don’t get that. What did it mean?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t. I wouldn’t expect you to. Commoner.”

Harry smiled through his frown.

“Listen,” Malfoy said, “if we can’t hate each other could we just maybe, you know… be indifferent.”

Harry wondered if he looked as hurt as he felt. “Why?”

“Just indulge me, Harry,” Malfoy said, sounding close to desperate. “Please!”

Harry was startled at Malfoy’s use of his name. He frowned but nodded. “Okay then. Indifferent. Whatever. It’s not like I actually like you or anything anyway so… Yeah; whatever.” He scratched his head, feeling suddenly in a bad mood. “Listen, um, I’m really knackered so I think I’ll just go straight to bed, so… have a nice evening, yeah?”

“Going to make me face the lions on my own?” Malfoy inquired with a crooked smile.

Harry looked at him level faced. “I think this is where the indifference is supposed to kick in.”

Malfoy’s smile faltered. “Oh. Right. Yes, well, good night then.”

“Good night.” Harry opened the door, held it open for Malfoy without looking at him and let it close behind him. Then he got ready for bed, closed the drapes and tried not to wonder why he felt so glum.


	8. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicions arise and our boys have their fourth detention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long one for you as I will most likely be unable to post for the next three or four days or so.

“Harry?”

“Mmhh.”

“Are you awake?”

“Mmhh.”

“Can I come in?”

“Mmhh.”

Ron opened the drapes to Harry’s bed. Harry was lying with his head under the covers. When he sensed the drapes opening he peeked out. Apart from Ron the dorm was otherwise empty.

“I think we should talk, Harry,” Ron said.

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. His stomach was churning as the effect of a too large intake of whiskey the evening before.

“What is it?” he asked as he yawned.

“It’s about the thing with Malfoy yesterday night,” Ron answered.

“Oh dear god,” Harry said and hid his face in his hands. “I had hoped it was a dream.”

“It wasn’t,” Ron said bluntly. “And I think we need to talk.”

Ron sounded serious and Harry slowly got the feeling he wasn’t going to like their conversation.

“Should we get Hermione for this?” Harry asked.

“I think perhaps we should,” Ron answered.

Harry sighed. “Oh dear, it’s one of those, is it?”

“It is,” Ron answered and left the dorm to get Hermione.

Harry, remembering their last ‘session’, positioned himself on the bed, resting against the headboard and supported by plush pillows, freshly conjured. He also conjured a comfortable armchair and footrest for both Ron and Hermione and positioned them on either side of the bed. He conjured a notebook, quill and ink for Hermione and dimmed the lighting. He pointedly refused to conjure tissues.

Ron and Hermione re-entered the dorm shortly after. Hermione smiled as she saw the transformations to the room and Ron shook his head, his lips quirking upwards in an amused smile.

“Thought I’d save you the trouble, Hermione,” Harry said.

She smiled and sat down and then conjured a box of tissues. Harry rolled his eyes as it appeared on the small table next to his bed.

“Okay then,” he said. “Analysing Harry, part two. What are we going to figure out today?”

“Before we begin,” Hermione started, “you should know that some of the things we are going to discuss are somewhat of a sore spot for Ron. He may or may not get upset.”

“So I figured,” Harry said, “and I wouldn’t expect anything less. So long as he promises to leave the room if it gets too much and not attack.”

“He does,” Hermione answered. “Don’t you, Ron?”

“I do,” Ron agreed.

“Good,” Hermione said. “Let’s begin.” She made a small note in her notebook and looked up at Harry. “So; Harry. About last night: Is there something in particular you would like to discuss?”

Several images came to mind: Ginny getting her tits sucked from half the participants in the game; Ginny demanding him to take the boils; Ginny scowling at him; sitting next to Malfoy on the same bed he was sitting on now; locking eyes with Malfoy; kissing Malfoy and feeling a surge of fluttering in his stomach as he did; feeling a surge of fluttering right now at the thought of it; Touching Malfoy; Malfoy touching him; lying next to Malfoy afterwards; Fighting Malfoy; Malfoy using Harry’s given name. And Malfoy telling him he didn’t want to get along but would rather have them be indifferent towards each other.

“No,” he answered. “Nothing in particular. I mean, it wasn’t what I had expected at the beginning of the evening but it happened and that’s that. No harm done. We went in, got the whiskey and tossed each other off. I felt tired afterwards so I stayed in and Malfoy went back out and joined the games again. Nothing more to it, really.” Harry made a valiant try to sound chirpy. And indifferent. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“There’s something you have to know, mate,” Ron said. “After you went in to… take care of things… Parkinson put a spell of some sort on both of you that allowed us all to hear what went on in there. Almost like being in the same room as you, except there were no images.”

Harry blanched. “Oh. Well… Um… What’s your point?”

“There are several points,” Hermione said. “One: We know you kissed. Two: We know something happened on your detention. Three: We know you get along. Four: We know you fought. Five: We know you’re upset about that. Six: - No, wait, I think that was it.”

“Oh, really, is that all?” Harry asked sarcastically.

“Also, there’s something else you should know,” Hermione said, glancing uncomfortably in Ron’s direction. “About Ginny.”

“Oh fuck,” Harry sat up straight and covered his mouth with his hands. “I forgot all about her.”

“Yes, we gathered as much when Malfoy came storming out and you didn’t,” Hermione answered.

“I guess I’ll have to talk to her later,” Harry said.

“Yes, but before you do, Harry, there’s something you should know.” Again Hermione glanced uncomfortably in Ron’s direction.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like it,” Harry said wisely. “Just tell me, Hermione.”

“After you went to the dorm it was Smith’s turn, as you had given him a dare just before you went in. I think he felt rather vindictive towards you after that… Anyway, he dared Zabini to… to do to Ginny what you didn’t want to do to me last Friday. And he did.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I guess it would be hypocritical of me to get upset with her over that.”

“It would,” Hermione said. She still looked uncomfortable and Ron squirmed in his seat.

Harry eyed them suspiciously. “Is there more?” He rolled his eyes. “Come on, just tell me will you? It’s going to be a very long day if I have to drag every word out of you. Especially since I don’t know what I’m trying to get you to say.”

Hermione sighed. “Okay. I will try to be brief: Ginny was fingered by Zabini – that was Smith’s dare –, then mutual masturbation with Boot – that was also Smith’s dare –, then by Smith – that was Goyle’s dare – and then she had to give a… you know… blowjob to Zabini. And that was obviously also Smith’s dare. I don’t know what his problem is. And in case you’re wondering why Neville has a sore bum for the next week or so; that will be because he refused to get a blowjob from Ginny.”

Harry sat up straight with his mouth agape. “And she _did it_? All of it?”

“She did,” Hermione said. Ron hid his head in his hands.

“And you just let it happen?” he asked Ron.

“Of course I didn’t _just_ let it happen, you prick,” Ron spat. “Smith kept daring her to do things and others to do things to her and she didn’t object. What was I supposed to do? Drag her out by her hair?”

“ _Yes. I don’t know_ ,” Harry said loudly. “ _Something_. _Anything_.”

“Well it’s too late now anyway,” Hermione said.

“Why did people keep daring Smith anyway?” Harry asked. “He must have been dared a lot to be able to give all those dares away himself.”

Hermione frowned. “I think it became popular because she took the dares and people wanted to see how far she could be pushed before she refused.”

“I want a full list over the people who dared Smith from the time I left the room,” Harry said. “Oh I bet Zabini was one of them – that sleazy slime ball. And Malfoy too probably. Unreliable, insensitive, uncaring, unsympathetic, heartless, useless prick.”

“He wasn’t,” Hermione said. “Zabini actually looked nervous. In his own cocky way. I think he’s scared of you.” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Pleasant surprise.

“And what about –”

“– Malfoy didn’t either,” Hermione said before Harry could finish his sentence. “He came storming out of your dorm and then stormed in to the Slytherin dorm and slammed the door.” Harry’s interest was suddenly peeked. “Haven’t seen him since,” Hermione continued. “And I’ve been in the common room reading since six o’ clock.”

“You’re a crazy person,” Harry told her. “But who was it then?”

 “It was Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Michael Corner twice.”

“Fucking pricks. Especially Smith,” Harry said angrily. “What are they, trying to ruin my relationship or something?”

Hermione’s eyes darted to Ron.

“Are _you_?” Ron said.

Harry frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Harry, please be honest now – is there something going on between you and Malfoy?” Ron asked.

“Nothing’s going on,” Harry answered. When no-one seemed inclined to answer, he continued: “We’re indifferent to each other – as you already heard, apparently.”

“But see; that’s the thing,” Ron said. “You didn’t seem indifferent. You were joking. And not just ‘jokes-jokes’ – they were _private_ jokes. And people having to agree on being indifferent, most certainly are not indifferent. And seriously, Harry; what happened on detention.”

Harry swallowed. “Nothing happened on detention, Ron. We talked. A lot. That’s it. It became pleasant. He probably couldn’t deal with that. Fucking wanker.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared into the air. “And we _so_ are indifferent to each other.”

“If you say so, Harry,” Ron said, not seeming to believe him at all. “But seriously; I don’t want you to string her along. If you don’t want to be with her, fine. Just show her the decency to tell her if that’s the case.”

“Of course I will,” Harry said. “But I really, really do want to be with her. I just sometimes – more often than not, actually – get the feeling that _she_ doesn’t want to be with _me_.” He pointed his finger at Hermione. “And don’t tell me she’s confused. It’s not nice telling someone their girlfriend is confused and then not being able to elaborate why.” Hermione blushed and looked ashamed. “For that matter, I’d prefer it if she talked to me herself and tried to explain to me what she’s confused about.”

“I thought you were going to try to talk to her about things,” Hermione said, frowning. “We discussed that last time.”

“Yeah,” Harry said exasperatedly “and I did try. You know, Ron, that day when we didn’t put up a silencing charm.” Ron nodded, looking a bit disgusted.

Hermione looked at him expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing!” Harry said. “She called me a girl – again – and then diverted me by saying she wanted me to fuck her in the arse. So I did. And then she left.”

Ron hid his face in his hands. Even through the dimmed lighting Harry could see him blushing furiously, and he thought he heard something like ‘oh dear Merlin, please kill me now’, muffled by his hands.

“I think you have to try again,” Hermione said. “I think it’s important. Be more insistent.”

Harry nodded. “But why would she do that? I mean, what was that, four different guys she was with? Not to mention all the different people who sucked her tits.”

“Frankly, Harry, I think she was actually relieved to get away from the sparks – you know, the spell I cast on you.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione held up her hands and continued. “I won’t pretend to think that that was the only reason she did it and I’m also not trying to make excuses for her, but I’m guessing, to her, the sparks were… revealing. In a way that was… unpleasant.”

Harry frowned and suddenly felt uneasy. He had forgotten about the sparks. “What did they look like? Is there some sort of, um, colour code or something? Or like divination?” Because even though Harry _knew_ that his feelings about Malfoy were nothing but indifferent, he still worried that the sparks might interpret something that was way off mark and that would give people the wrong idea of what was going on.

“Well, it’s not an exact science,” Hermione said.” Although there are some general guidelines and ways of interpretation. Would you like me to give it a go?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said but his curiosity won. “Okay.”

“I’ll try but it is quite difficult since different nuances of the same colour can mean completely different things,” Hermione said. “Anyway; it started with a deep crimson which could indicate embarrassment and tension. Then the colours became sort of yellow and bright reddish, which indicates humour and friendliness. Then there was scarlet, gold and different kinds of pink, which symbolises nervousness, arousal and… um… sexual and/or romantic attraction. I’m guessing that was when you started, you know… _it_.”

Harry spluttered. “Really, you think?” he asked sarcastically.

“You asked me for it, Harry. Take it or leave it,” Hermione said, and Harry mumbled a quiet ‘sorry’ and let Hermione continue. “Okay, so; then they became goldish and violet, and that was when you both climaxed – I know that one. That was followed by different shades of light blue and turquoise – it was really quite beautiful – which represent tranquillity, peace, harmony and joy. And in the end it was a mix of dark red, dark blue, dark grey, dark purple and black. Those show frustration, confusion, anger and sadness. That wasn’t pretty at all.”

Harry looked at her. “You already studied it, didn’t you?”

“I may have, she admitted. I thought you might ask.”

“Did you put them on Ginny too?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Violet and gold and a bit of pink here and there,” Hermione answered

They all sat in silence a while.

“He called you Harry,” Ron said after a while.

“I noticed,” Harry answered.

“Are you calling each other by your first names now?” Ron asked.

“No,” Harry answered. “That was the first time.”

More silence.

Ron spoke again. “You called him Mr. Malfoy.”

“I know,” Harry said.

“During the… wanking,” Ron continued.

“Yes,” Harry said curtly. “But I really don’t think I should be held responsible for things said while approaching orgasm.”

“You have a point,” Ron said.

Harry sighed. “Anyway. We’ve talked. Are you satisfied or is there anything else, you’d like to know?”

Ron frowned. “Did we get any real answers?”

Harry rubbed his temples. “All right: One: Yes, we kissed – it seemed like a natural way to get things started. Two: On detention, we talked. It was pleasant. I found out he’s not such a horrible person and that he actually has a sense of humour. Which leads to three: Yes, we _got_ along. Now we don’t. Four: Yes, we fought – which is nothing out of the ordinary. And five: Of course I’m upset. My girlfriend had her genitals touched by four times as many blokes as me. And she sucked somebody else’s cock. I think it’s fair to call that a valid reason for being upset, don’t you?” Harry sat back on the bed, scowling. “At least she’s not very good at it,” he said grumpily and crossed his arms across his chest.

Hermione blushed and Ron groaned, covering his ears.

“Are we done?” Harry asked.

Hermione frowned at him. “We’re done,” she said. “Although I don’t find this anything near as satisfying as our last session.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Harry added.

“Three,” he heard Ron mumble. “I think I’ll go to lunch.”

“Save me a seat and I’ll have a quick shower,” Harry said.

“I’ll be along shortly as well, Ron,” Hermione said as Ron left the dorm.

“Are you going to say what you’d like to say or are you just going to stand there?” Harry asked Hermione who was still standing in the dorm. “Because I’d really like a shower.”

“What happened on detention, Harry? And don’t give me that ‘we-talked-and-really-connected-story’. I’m not that stupid, you know. So what happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Hermione,” Harry said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “No exchange of bodily fluids whatsoever.” That wasn’t lying, Harry reasoned.

“That still leaves quite a few things, Harry. Ron’s right, you know. Don’t string her along.”

“Are you telling her the same thing?” Harry asked.

“No,” Hermione said. “I haven’t thought about it like that.”

“Maybe you should,” Harry said.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but before she could there was a loud knock on the door and Dean poked his head in.

“Can we come in now? Neville really needs to lie down.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Hermione incredulously. “You _kicked him out_?” She blushed. “I can’t believe you, Hermione.” She looked down, fidgeting. “I’ll help you get him in, Dean.”

After having helped Neville get back to bed and lie on his stomach, Harry got out the last of his essence of Murtlap and presented it to Neville who groaned in thanks. Harry kneeled down at Neville’s bed and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Neville,” he said.

Neville gave him a lopsided smile. “No problem, mate. Any time.” At least that was what Harry thought he heard Neville say through the moaning and groaning. Harry really did feel very thankful and determined himself to help Neville get through the week with as little pain as possible under the circumstances.

*

“Get up.”

Draco felt someone poke his ribs and he batted the hand away.

“Get up, Draco.”

“Fuck off, Pansy,” Draco said, the words muffled by his pillow.

“You need to get out of the dorm, Draco.” Pansy sat down on his bed. “You spent the whole weekend in bed and every available minute both yesterday and the day before that. The only place people see you is during classes. And if you keep up that quiet attitude you have picked up, people may actually begin questioning your existence.”

“I’m sick,” Draco answered and turned to face the wall.

“Honestly, darling, we both know that’s not what this is.”

“I don’t,” Draco said.

“You do, too. You know, I did try to assist in breaking them up.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Right, of course not, darling.”

There was a couple of moments’ silence.

“Would you like to know how?”

Draco turned again to face Pansy. “You obviously want to tell me and I have no objection to hearing it,” Draco said. “Although I must add I still haven’t the faintest idea who you’re talking about.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, darling. Anyway, here’s what happened: You heard about Smith’s dare spree to the female Weasley.” Draco nodded. “Well,” Pansy continued. “I may or may not have dared Smith once or twice. It was obvious he was using every turn he got to get she-Weasley to do something with anybody but Potter. I thought I would aid his noble cause.” Pansy looked decidedly proud of herself.

“Noble cause indeed,” Draco said and then paused. “It wasn’t nice, Pansy. You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Since when do you care about niceties?” Pansy frowned.

“I don’t know,” Draco said.

Again, they sat in silence a while, until Draco sat up, faced Pansy and grabbed her shoulders.

“Have sex with me, Pansy.”

“Okay,” Pansy said. “Why?”

“I have an itch and I need you to scratch it,” Draco answered.

“Okay,” she said again. “It will have to wait till after supper, though. I’m starving.”

“Okay then after supper. We’ll find an empty classroom or something. Third floor should be relatively safe. I think most of the classrooms there are abandoned.”

They agreed to meet on the third floor after supper. Draco was there first. As he walked the hall searching for a suitable room he came by one where the door was ajar and interesting noises escaping through it and into the hallway. As he got closer he was able to distinguish the words. He already had a good idea of who the voices might belong to.

“Ow, that doesn’t feel good at all,” Potter said. Draco frowned. That sounded odd.

“Relax, Harry, it will. I just need to wriggle it a little bit,” answered the Weaselette. That sounded even odder.

“Just… be careful alright. It’s not something I’ve ever done before, you know.” Draco wondered what could be left that Potter hadn’t done before. Unless of course it was non-sex related. Or something disgusting the Weaselette had talked him into.

“Well it’s not like I have either,” the Weaselette answered.

“Then remind me why we’re doing this.”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” the Weaselette argued.

“Well it doesn’t,” Potter said.

“I realise that, Harry, but Blaise said it would eventually.” Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. Blaise?

“Blaise?” Potter asked.

“Yes. Zabini.”

“I know who it is,” Potter said. “Since when are we taking sexual advice from Zabini? And since when do you call him by his first name?”

“Having somebody’s cock in your mouth will do that to you,” the Weaselette said.

“Ow, _fuck_ that hurt, Ginny. Careful.” What on earth was she doing to him?

“Sorry,” the Weaselette said apologetically. “And we agreed not to be angry with each other about it, remember?”

“Yes. Ow. Sorry. _OW._ _Fucking mother f…_ What the _fuck are you doing, Ginny_?” Seriously, what on earth was going on in there?

“I’m just going to try to squeeze another one in.” Oooooohh – _that_ was what was going on. Draco covered his hand with his mouth, a laugh threatening to escape.

“Okay, it’s in,” the Weaselette said.

“Yes. Thank you. I can feel that. Now what?” Potter asked curtly.

“Blaise said I should try to bend my fingers sort of like a hook.” In the hallway Draco was nearly gagging, trying to keep in the laughter. Talk about awkward first times.

“You know this very nearly couldn’t be more uncomfortable,” Potter said. “And I don’t see what… _FUCK_.” He continued on to make some sort of keening noise.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Harry, maybe we should just…”

“No no, do it again.”

“Like this?”

“ _Fuck, oh my g… - ngh… oh shit_.”

Draco heard the Weaselette laugh. “Is it good?”

And Potter was keening and whimpering and moaning.

“I’m going to try for a third. Is that okay?” the Weaselette asked.

“Mhmm,” Potter mumbled in a sort of high-pitched voice that once again had Draco doubling over with contained laughter.

“ _Oh shit, fuck, oh my GOD, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Uh – NGH!”_ No need to guess what happened there, Draco thought.

“Ginny that was absolutely fantastic,” Potter panted after a while.

The Weaselette laughed again. “Good, I’m glad you liked it.”

There was a bit of shuffling around.

“Now I’m not sure I’ll be ready for another round just now,” Draco heard Potter say. “It was rather intense. But – Ms. Weasley –“ Potter’s voice became low and demanding. “– if you will just sit up on the desk, pull up your skirt and spread your legs, I’ll take a close look at that pretty pussy of yours.” The Weaselette giggled and said something around the lines of ‘yes Mr. Potter’. “And then perhaps, later tonight, if you’re a good girl, I will fuck you so hard you’ll have trouble walking.” Draco heard the Weaselette moan lightly and let out a muffled ‘thank you, Mr. Potter’.

That man really did have foul language.

Draco felt no need to listen to Potter go down on his girlfriend so he cast a silencing charm working both ways and a Muffliato. Not that he had had a need to listen to Potter getting fingered by the Weaselette but Draco was fairly certain that that could be regarded entertainment. Of some sort. Possibly.

Just as he had cast the silencing charms he saw Pansy turning a corner and walking towards him. He pulled her into the classroom next to the one Potter occupied and then led Pansy to a desk in the middle of the classroom.

She turned around to face him. “This is just a one-off right?”

“It is. So please don’t get clingy after.”

Pansy smirked. “When have I ever?” She tilted her head upwards to nibble at his jaw and then turned around, standing between Draco and the desk with her back to Draco.

Draco moved forward standing flush up against her and pressing his erection against her lower back. He bent down and tasted the saltiness of her neck. Pansy shivered at the feeling of his breath on the sensitive skin. Draco slid his arms around her; one hand kneading a breast and the other hand finding its way under her skirt and down her panties, roughly rubbing her clit and sliding a couple of fingers inside her.

Draco halted suddenly, aware of the sound of a door clicking and someone walking down the hall. He moved his hand from Pansy’s breast to cover her mouth.

“Shh, I think someone’s coming,” he whispered. Presumably Potter or the weaselette but he didn’t air that thought to Pansy.

“They’re moving away from here,” she said, prying his hand away from her mouth. “Now get back to business.”

Draco resumed the kneading of Pansy’s breast. He felt the wetness of her cunt increase and bent down and gently bit her ear. Pansy let out a soft moan and tilted her head backwards to rest on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. If he wanted to, Draco could easily bend down and kiss her. However, he wasn’t in the mood for that kind of affection so he simply bent down and nibbled her cheek, earning him another soft moan. Pansy’s head was still resting on his shoulder, her eyes still closed when Draco looked up and found himself looking into the eyes of Harry Potter’s reflection in the window across from him. It was pitch dark outside so Potter’s reflection stood clearly in the glass. Even in the slightly blurry reflection, Draco could see Potter’s eyes locking with his. Potter’s reflection tilted his head, and he moved sideways a little, presumably leaning on the doorframe, and crossed his arms.

Not wanting Pansy to suddenly discover Potter’s presence – because then she would want to stop and storm out, and that was definitely, _definitely_ , the only reason that it mustn’t happen – he removed his hand from her breast and placed it between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward.

“Bend over the desk. All the way. Rest your forehead on your arms.”

Pansy let herself be pushed forwards and didn’t seem to take notice of the reflection in the window. She bent over so that her upper body was lying flat on the desk, and she let her forehead rest on her arms bent in front of her. Draco didn’t remove his hand from her back but held it firmly in place as he reached down and undid his belt and trousers with one hand. He let his trousers slide down to his knees and then pulled at the waistband of his boxers with his thumb and then wiggled his legs until they, too, slid down his legs and came to rest at his knees.

“Stay down,” he said as he removed his hand from her back and pulled up the back of her robes.

He pushed them all the way up to her shoulders, exposing her back. He then pulled down her knickers to her mid-thigh and lined himself up against her. Draco took hold of his cock and, as he held eye contact with Potter, stroked himself twice before entering her wet and warm pussy.

Draco once again placed a hand on Pansy’s back, holding her in place. He used the other hand to work her clit. His arm around her hip was used to hold her firmly in place.

He thrust in hard, letting out a low moan, earning the same sound from Pansy. What Draco needed was not tender lovemaking or drawn-out pleasure; he needed a quick, hard fuck. Maybe two, depending on how quick it turned out to be. Hence, he picked up pace immediately and thrust into Pansy hard and fast. His lips were parted and he was panting. Occasionally he would raise his gaze to the reflection of Potter and their eyes would meet. When he closed his eyes, his mind was flooded with images of Potter; real and imagination. Completely involuntarily, obviously. Draco honestly tried to focus on the thought of Pansy’s wetness, Pansy’s breasts, Pansy’s sounds, but was constantly interrupted with the images of Potter’s hand around his cock, Potter’s face and sounds as he climaxed, Potter’s very green and very piercing eyes. He imagined pounding into Potter. Potter pounding into Draco while stroking his hard cock.

Draco felt drops of sweat trickling down his back and thighs as he neared climax. As he looked up, he saw Potter’s reflection shift slightly as if changing position but still meeting Draco’s eyes.

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut as he came to the image of himself in Pansy’s position, sprawled over the desk, with Potter pounding into him. He bit one side of his lower lip as he came with a loud _‘ugh’_. He slumped forwards, supporting himself by the hand resting on Pansy’s back.

He realised he hadn’t been paying attention to Pansy whatsoever as she wiggled her bum.

“Fucking move your fucking hand, you prick, I wasn’t done,” she whined almost hysterically.

“Sorry, sorry, just a second,” he panted.

Pansy wiggled her bum again, thrusting backwards grinding Draco’s crotch, and let her foot slide up his calf, rubbing it.

“Are you trying to get me hard again, Pansy?” he asked.

“Yes,” she purred. “Is it working?”

“You tell me,” Draco answered, smirking and slowly thrusting forward.

“Excellent,” Pansy said in a husky voice. She then continued more commandingly: “Now get to work and fucking rub me off, you wanker.”

And Draco did. As he lifted his head to lock eyes with Potter’s reflection – no, that came out wrong; it was to check to see if Potter was still there, spying on Draco in a creepy and not at all erotically arousing manner. Yes. That was it. As he lifted his head to check if Potter was still there he saw him raising an eyebrow and shifting his position again. He had the urge to say something in the like of ‘enjoying the show, Potter’, but he refrained as Pansy would realise they were being watched.

Instead, because he couldn’t help himself, he said in a low but audible voice: “and the show goes on.” In the window he thought he saw Potter’s lips quirk up. Though that could have been his imagination, as the reflection, though sharp, was slightly blurry.

“What?” Pansy asked.

“Nothing. Shut up, Pans.”

Draco didn’t even try to think about something other than Potter this time, and as he felt Pansy constrict around his cock, he came to the same image as not fifteen minutes ago of Potter pounding into him over the desk. Once again his eyes fluttered shut and he let out a strangled moan. Draco looked up. Potter was still there. They held eye contact for a couple of moments before Potter turned and left.

When Draco had cast a cleaning spell on both of them, tucked himself in and was ready to walk with Pansy back to the common room, she grabbed his wrist and used it to turn him around to face her.

“Now, be honest, darling. Was that planned?”

“What do you mean?” Draco frowned, honestly confused. “We planned it together, just before supper, remember?”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Draco, and I’m fairly certain you know that,” she answered.

Draco didn’t know that. But he was almost sure he did now. “I’m going to need you to elaborate I’m afraid,” he said in an attempt to feign ignorance.

“Potter. In the window. I know you know he was there. I don’t care so I’m not mad or anything. I just want to know if it was planned.”

“It wasn’t.” Draco knew she wouldn’t be fooled by him saying he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, so he might as well admit it. “Why didn’t you say something if you knew he was there?”

“I didn’t mind,” Pansy said. “It was kind of hot.”

Draco blushed. He agreed with Pansy even though he would never admit that to her.

“Besides,” Pansy continued, “you were the one who asked me to have sex so I thought I’d let you have that one, if Potter’s reflection was what you needed to… you know – ‘help scratch your itch’ as you put it.”

“You’re really not mad?” Draco asked.

“Not in the least. I can see why the Weaselette gets off on it. And Potter too. And you, apparently.”

Draco put his arm around her and placed a small kiss on her temple. They walked out of the classroom and back towards the common room With Draco’s arm around Pansy’s shoulder.

“Now who’s getting clingy?” Pansy said, smirking.

Draco smiled and gave her a squeeze. “For the record,” he said. “Saying that I needed Potter’s reflection to help scratch my itch is just _so_ way off mark, just so you know.”

“Whatever you say, darling. Now walk me to the library. I need to get a book for my Transfigurations essay.”

Draco dropped Pansy off at the library and then made his way to the common room, feeling sated, spent and a teeny bit disturbed.

*

After Harry had seen Malfoy have sex with Pansy – twice – he went to seek Ginny out at the library where he knew she would be studying. They had arranged to pick up their books in each of their dorms and then meet at the library to study together.

“What took you so long?” Ginny asked when he sat down next to her. “I thought you were only going to pick up your books and then meet me here.”

“Oh, um, I got withheld,” Harry explained. Not that that really offered any explanation. “In the common room.”

“Okay. So where _are_ your books?”

Harry looked at her, bewildered.

“Kind of hard to study without your books, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry placed a hand on her knee and began edging it up her thigh. He leaned in and said in a low voice, his mouth grazing her ear as he spoke: “But I’m not here to study. You have been a good girl, Ms. Weasley – doing your homework and studying hard. I would like to reward you.” As he said it he slipped a finger inside her pants and ran it over her clit.

Ginny didn’t turn her head but answered in an equally low voice. “I think I would like that, Mr. Potter. Did you have something in mind?”

“I hear the restricted section is usually empty at this hour. Would you like me to give you a tour?”

Ginny turned her head and smiled at him deviously. “I would, yes.”

Harry felt his already half hard cock twitch as they stood up to head for the restricted section.

He went to bed that night feeling a mixture of emotions from satisfaction, relief and happiness to confusion, annoyance and shame. As he had done several times before, he chose not to try to analyse any of them.

 

Thursday brought on Potions and another double session of working indifferently with Malfoy. Harry was finding the whole indifference thing difficult. They had begun getting along and Harry had actually quite enjoyed that. He had seen an honest, vulnerable, caring and funny side of Malfoy that made him think they could be sort of friends if they tried. He wasn’t always horrible to be around and Harry had been pretty sure that Malfoy was feeling the same about him. And then all of a sudden Malfoy wanted to be indifferent. It didn’t make sense. And what was the deal with calling him ‘Harry’ anyway. And at the same time saying it wasn’t going to work out with them getting along. The more Harry thought about it, the more annoyed he got. Which should really be a good thing as he then was less inclined to make friendly banter and get along with the stupid git. Who was sending mixed signals, by the way. During Potions on Monday it had seemed as if Malfoy was trying to joke around with Harry. And when Harry had said that joking around and having not-unpleasant small talk hardly qualified as being indifferent Malfoy had shut up, looking insulted. Or hurt or whatever. Hypocritical bastard. And now, to add to the awkwardness, there was the whole Malfoy/Parkinson sex show he had witnessed the evening prior. When Malfoy arrived and dropped into the seat next to Harry he glanced sideways to try to determine Malfoy’s mood. Malfoy didn’t greet or acknowledge Harry in any way.

“Hello Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted back. If just stating someone’s name could even qualify as a greeting.

Shortly after, Harry spotted Parkinson walking in to the classroom. She walked over to stand right in front of Harry and Malfoy’s desk. Harry didn’t bother looking up as it would be Malfoy she would want to talk to.

“Hello, Potter.”

Harry’s head snapped up at the greeting. “Um, hello Parkinson,” he said.

“Did you sleep well?” Parkinson asked as she smiled devilishly and winked.

Harry’s mouth fell open, and he gawked at her. She must know he was there.

“Um,” Harry answered cleverly.

“Yes,” she said, and for a second Harry was afraid she might be able to read minds. She shifted her hips and traced a finger on the desk. “Did you find something interesting in the restricted section?”

Harry’s jaw, which had found its way up, dropped again. It would be truly mortifying if Pansy knew that Harry had been watching her and Malfoy having sex and then gone directly to shag his girlfriend in the library. But maybe she only knew about the about the library incident. That was possible. She hadn’t let on directly that she knew anything about the peeping. Scratch that. The… No, peeping actually fit it rather accurately, Harry reluctantly thought. He opened and closed his mouth, most likely resembling a fish on land, and just stared at her, scrunching up his nose and narrowing his eyes, desperately thinking of something clever to say.

Parkinson cocked her head and took on a worried look. “Are you all right, Potter? You look ill. Draco does he look well to you.”

Malfoy turned his head and looked at Harry. “I notice no great difference,” he said as he shrugged and looked away again.

Before Harry was able to snap at Malfoy, Slughorn entered the classroom.

Parkinson sighed exaggeratedly. “And the show goes on,” she said as she walked to sit at her own desk.

Harry groaned and dropped his head on the desk.

At the end of class, when he and Malfoy were packing up their ingredients and cast the necessary Stasis charm on their cauldron, Slughorn went to stand in front of their desk. He clapped his hands together.

“Now boys, are we ready for tonight’s detention?”

Neither boy answered as it was a stupid question. Slughorn laughed jovially as though they had answered the question _and_ made a witty remark.

“You will be going with Hagrid to the Forbidden Forest tonight,” Slughorn said. Malfoy groaned. Whether it was the prospect of detention with Hagrid or having to go into the forest, Harry didn’t know. Most likely it was both. “I suggest you dress warmly, boys. I sense a storm coming on.” Slughorn chuckled and patted his voluminous middle. Then he walked away, still chuckling and shaking his head.

“That man is a maniac,” Malfoy said.

“No argument there,” Harry answered. He turned around and left the room to join Ron and Hermione who were waiting for him outside the classroom.

 

As they entered the Charms classroom Ron grabbed hold of Harry’s and Hermione’s robes and pulled them to a corner in the back of the classroom where he shoved them into their seats. He then proceeded to cast a Muffliato and a silencing charm preventing them from being heard but allowing them to hear what was going on in the classroom.

“ _Ronald_ ,” Hermione exclaimed and then hissed: “ _We have class._ ” She drew her wand to remove the charms.

“This is _important_ , Hermione,” Ron said.

“So is education,” she retorted.

“ _Fine_ ,” Ron said. But we’re talking after class. The three of us. Harry had a feeling this was going to be about him. Again.

They settled down and Hermione started taking notes while Harry and Ron pretended to listen to Flitwick explain the definition of charms, spells, hexes and curses. Harry didn’t really care what the difference was – as long as it got the job done.

When the lesson was finally over the trio proceeded to go to the common room. As the Gryffindor boys’ dorm was occupied by Neville lying on the bed, moaning and groaning (and it wouldn’t be very Gryffindorish to kick his sore arse out of bed just so they could talk in peace – again, and it seemed rude to just ‘lock’ themselves in Ron’s or Harry’s bed), and the girls’ dorm was occupied by Parvati consoling Lavender who was crying over some bloke or other, they had to make do with huddling in a corner of the common room. They cast a Muffliato and several silencing and privacy charms and settled down.

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding annoyed, and Harry inwardly groaned. “Enough bullshit. What the hell is going on with you and the Slytherins?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to be more specific, Ron,” Harry said truthfully. Slytherin _s_? He had thought this would (yet again) be about one Slytherin in particular.

“Okay I will,” Ron said, “There’s still Malfoy on top of the list. I know we talked about him a lot and you keep saying there’s nothing between you, but I have a hard time believing it. Then there’s Zabini. He keeps glancing at you nervously like he’s scared you’re going pounce on him or something. And then that odd conversation with Parkinson today.”

Harry hid his head in his hands. “For the record; I’m getting a little sick of this whole ‘Analysing Harry’-thing.”

Ron crossed his arms. “Well, I guess if you just told the truth from the beginning there would be considerably fewer sessions of ‘Analysing Harry’.”

“I _am_ telling the –“ Harry began but Ron interrupted, pointing his finger at Harry’s chest.

“Stop it, Harry. You’re not. I know you. And you should know I find it rather insulting that you think I’m too stupid as to not recognise when you’re lying.”

Hermione had been looking from one to the other as the discussion went on. “Ron is right, Harry. Just tell us.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Harry said, annoyed. “But don’t you dare blame me if you don’t like what you hear.”

“We will most certainly do our best, won’t we, Ron?” Hermione said and Ron nodded.

Harry sighed, sensing no way out of the conversation. “Okay. About Zabini: I wasn’t aware that he might be scared of me but I’m glad he seems to be. It has been indicated more than once that he wanted to or already had slept with my girlfriend. You should know, Ron. You were there when it was first indicated. I find it upsetting and I may have glared at him a few times in a manner that would leave no doubt as to how I feel about that.”

Ron opened his mouth as to speak, most likely defending his sister, but Harry held up a hand, interrupting him.

“You asked, Ron. You will listen,” Harry said firmly and Ron shut his mouth again. “Now, I don’t want to believe that it actually happened, but… I don’t know… She called him Blaise last night. And took sexual advice from him. And they were apparently very… enthusiastic when kissing, according to you and Neville. And she gave him a blow job.” The three of them turned in their seats to look at Zabini who was sitting at one of the tables, studying. Just then Zabini looked up, and at the sight of the three Gryffindors watching him, widened his eyes and really did look scared. Harry was secretly pleased.

“That was on a dare,” Ron pointed out. “And might I add that _you_ are very ‘ _enthusiastic_ ’ when kissing Malfoy. And you tossed each other off before she was dared to do the blowjob. And you were kissing around with Malfoy before she even started joining the game.”

“I know, Ron,” Harry said.

“So how is what she is doing different from what you’re doing?” Ron asked.

“I… It’s… I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Try,” Ron said. “Because you’re acting rather hypocritically right now.”

“I know, Ron, I know,” Harry said exasperatedly. “I… It’s different because she’s my girlfriend and I don’t want her running around snogging a whole lot of blokes. Or getting fingered by anybody but me. Or touching some other bloke’s cock. Or sucking anybody else off. And if she has to I certainly don’t want her to enjoy it.” Harry was starting to feel out of his depth and looked over to Hermione. “Are you going to contribute with something clever or are you just going to sit there and watch the show?” he asked. As he uttered the words ‘watch the show’ he was automatically reminded of the events the evening prior and felt heat flush his face.

“I think Ron is doing splendidly,” Hermione added. “I’ll let you know if I have something to contribute.”

Harry scowled at her. He had hoped for a diversion of some sort.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Ron said. “You’re enjoying your Malfoy-snoggings and I refuse to believe that you didn’t enjoy the wanking. How is that different?”

“Because it _is_ , Ron. Malfoy is a bloke so it’s not that big a deal when I do it. It’s a big deal when she does it with others because _they’re_ blokes and she could be attracted to some of them. I mean, Zabini is a good looking bloke. And both Neville and Dean are also rather fit. If she was only doing stuff with girls I wouldn’t mind. I might actually find it hot.”

“But you’re attracted to Malfoy, Harry. That equals it out,” Ron said.

“No I’m not.” Harry knew as he said it that he was lying. He halted and then admitted: “I – I might find him physically attractive. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“What on earth could you possibly find attractive on that pointy git?” Ron asked.

“Well,” Harry began, “he has nice skin. And very pretty hair. And he is really not as pointy as he used to be; he has rather remarkable cheekbones. And slender hands. And a nice posture.”

“You said the same thing about Ginny’s skin last year,” Ron said exasperatedly. “You obviously find ‘nice skin’ attractive. And, might I add, _I_ haven’t noticed any of the things you just said about Malfoy as attraction points. I see a pointy and very vain bloke who is obsessed with his hair, which by the way looks like nothing more than regular hair.”

“I agree with Harry,” Hermione said. “He is attractive.”

“Point proven!” Ron said and crossed his arms.

“ _Fine_!” Harry said irritably. “I find a bloke attractive. For the sake of the conversation, let’s say I’m bi. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. I’m beginning to find it tiresome.”

“But the other conversations never got us this far,” Ron said, looking satisfied and way too smug. “Now; what happened on detention last Thursday? Tell the truth.”

Harry sighed. “We were lying on a blanket, watching the stars and talking, and…”

Ron blanched. “Oh dear Merlin, you didn’t kiss him, did you?”

“What, _no, Ron_!” Harry said indignantly. “Nothing like that. Our hands touched. Neither of us moved away.”

“You lay under the stars, talking and _holding hands_?” Ron looked absolutely terrified.

“No,” Harry said. “We stopped talking. And it was hardly hand-holding. It was an intertwining of little fingers. Like this.” Harry showed them with his little fingers.

“That doesn’t make it better,” Ron said. “That means you lay under the stars on a blanket holding hands. _In silence_. That’s even _worse_. And it wasn’t even on a dare. That’s even worse than worse. How long for?”

Harry blushed. “I don’t know. A couple of hours. Maybe four. Possibly.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “You held hands with Malfoy for _four hours_?”

“Enough of this,” Hermione interrupted. “We are getting nowhere like this. Summary in pin points: Zabini is scared of Harry; Harry thinks Zabini wants to sleep with Ginny, if he hasn’t already – shut up, Ron!; Harry is bisexual and attracted to Malfoy; Malfoy and Harry held hands – shut up, Harry!; Harry is a hypocrite. That’s settled then. Moving on: Parkinson. What was that?”

Ron was sitting back in his chair, scowling at Harry. Harry couldn’t see any obvious way out of explaining himself other than lying or claiming ignorance and he doubted they would believe him if he tried. So he sighed and told them. “I saw Parkinson and Malfoy having sex in a classroom on the third floor yesterday evening. Malfoy caught my reflection in the window. I didn’t know Parkinson saw me.”

Ron wrinkled his nose and his upper lip curled in disgust. “Eew, that must have been a disgusting sight. What did you do?”

Harry felt his face heat up again.

“Oh, Harry, no,” Hermione said, catching on immediately. “You stayed and watched, didn’t you?”

Harry nodded and gnawed at his lower lip.

If possible, Ron looked even more horrified. “You stayed? And watched? After he saw you? Wasn’t he upset? Or what, did you pretend to leave and then stayed anyway?”

Harry shook his head. “He knew I was there the whole time. We made eye contact on several occasions.”

Ron almost looked ill. “Did you… you know… stay the entire time?”

Harry nodded.

“You watched him come?”

“Twice.” Harry, once again, hid his head in his hands in embarrassment.

Ron looked gobsmacked for a second before he regained his composure. “What _is_ it with you and that ferret, Harry?”

“Nothing, Ron,” Harry said. “You heard the agreement we made. We’re indifferent to each other.”

“That was the agreement, yes,” Ron said sharply. “But you aren’t are you? You’re upset about it, I can tell you are. You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re attracted to more than his looks.”

“That is _so_ not true,” Harry objected and stood up.

“I think it is,” Ron said and also stood up, looking angry. “Granted, the kissing and the wanking I can write off as physical attraction, but you said yourself after your last detention that you had enjoyed his company and that he was fun to be around. And that was after a detention where you lay together _holding hands_ _for four fucking hours_. And you are _way_ too delighted when anybody lets you know that Malfoy has, at some point, one way or another shown any sort of interest in your wellbeing. And there’s this odd but rather pronounced sexual tension between you.”

“ _It’s just tension_ ,” Harry tried to reason. Ron didn’t seem to pay attention.

“And you have detention tonight, too. Who knows what you’re going to come up with this time.” Ron had raised his voice.

Harry wanted to say something back at Ron but didn’t have the chance before the redhead had moved two steps forward, standing very close to him and pointing his index finger at Harry.

“So help me, Harry,” Ron said in a low voice, “if you cheat on my sister you will be spending a lot of your time looking over your shoulder for a very long time.”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you threatening me?”

Ron suddenly looked uncertain; as if it hadn’t occurred to him until then that he was, in fact, threatening to harm his best friend. “I…”

“You know, I’m _really_ getting sick of this,” Harry spat. “First off: stop pointing your fucking finger at me.” He swatted Ron’s finger away. He was gradually raising his voice but didn’t care. There were several silencing charms protecting them after all. “Second: I would _never_ cheat on Ginny, so I would appreciate it if you would both just stop fucking berating me for something I haven’t even done and don’t intend doing. I’m not the cheating type. My best bet would be that if anyone is likely to cheat in this relationship, it’s her. So STOP TREATING ME LIKE A FUCKING MAN-WHORE, AND IF YOU REALLY NEED TO LECTURE SOMEONE ABOUT NOT CHEATING, LECTURE _HER_!” Harry stomped his foot. He had clenched his fists, and he was surprised at just how furious he really was with them.

“DON’T YOU _DARE_ TALK ABOUT MY SISTER LIKE THAT,” Ron shouted and moved even closer to Harry.

“I’LL TALK ABOUT HER HOWEVER I FUCKING PLEASE,” Harry shouted back. He cursed the height advantage Ron had with his nearly 6 foot 4”.

“ENOUGH!” Hermione bellowed. She had stood up and was now pointing her wand at both of them.

Ron looked at Hermione as if assessing the level of danger. When Hermione lowered her wand again, Ron reached out and flicked Harry’s nose.

“Did you just flick my nose?” Harry asked incredulously while rubbing it.

“Yeah, I did. You’re being a prick.”

“Well so are you.”

“I’m just concerned about my sister. And Hermione is concerned about her friend, right Hermione?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well that’s all good and dandy,” Harry said sarcastically. “I’m glad you’re trying to protect her fragile being from the infamous man-whore Harry Potter.” He could almost feel the acid dripping from his voice.

“Harry, it’s not like that,” Hermione said gently.

“It’s exactly like that,” Harry snapped. “A relationship is a two-way street, you know. And I’m your friend too. I think I deserve your concern as well.” He discovered as he said it that it was true and suddenly he just wanted to be alone. Or at least away from them.

Hermione tried to embrace him in a hug, but Harry pushed her away, gently but firmly. He looked each of them in the eyes. Ron looked uncertain and a little ashamed and Hermione looked as if she might cry. Harry didn’t feel sorry for them. “Fuck you both,” he said quietly and walked away from them to join Neville in the dorm.

He lay down on his bed and listened to Neville’s quiet whimpers. They didn’t talk but it was a pleasant sort of almost-silence. They both lay quietly for what seemed like hours. Harry felt his stomach starting to churn but in no way felt like going down for supper. Suddenly the silence was broken by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Harry said loud enough that it would be heard on the other side of the door.

The door opened and in came Dobby, balancing a large tray with two sets of plates and cutlery, a variety of foods and a pitcher of pumpkin juice on his head.

Harry quickly sat up and relieved Dobby of the tray. “Dobby, what are you doing here? I mean, thanks, it’s… Thanks.”

 

“Dobby was visited in the kitchen by the Little Master who told Dobby that Harry Potter might not make it to supper and if Dobby would please gather some food and bring it to Harry Potter, sir. And the Little Master said the Longbottom boy might also not make it for supper, Harry Potter, sir, so Dobby should bring him something too. The Little Master asked Dobby to bring a straw for the Longbottom boy, so Dobby did.” Dobby bowed as he proudly presented the straw.

Harry was stunned. “Well thank you, Dobby. That was very kind of you. I would like you to find the Little Master and tell him thank you. Tell him that ‘The Famous Harry Potter thanks the Little Master’.” Harry grinned at the thought of Malfoy’s expression when Dobby delivered ‘The Famous Harry Potter’s’ thanks to ‘the Little Master’.

“Yes, sir, Harry Potter, Dobby will tell him. It is an honour to serve the famous Harry Potter.”

“Tell him thanks from me, too, Dobby,” Neville added with a strained voice.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Longbottom, Dobby will.”

“But Dobby, say it when he’s alone, yeah? Or at least as close to alone as possible. And under no circumstance in the near vicinity of Ron, Hermione or Ginny. Okay?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harry Potter, sir, Dobby will get the Little Master alone.”

“And tell him I’ll see him later.”

After Dobby was done bowing and praising the famous Harry Potter and had disappeared to give Malfoy his and Neville’s thanks, Harry made a plate for himself and one for Neville. He cut Neville’s food into small bites and sat on the floor next to his bed to offer help when necessary. It really was rather brilliant to have thought of a straw so Neville could stay lying down even when drinking.

After they had finished eating, Neville caught Harry’s eyes.

“So, the Little Master?”

“It’s Malfoy,” Harry answered.

“I thought so,” Neville said. “It was very considerate of him.”

“It was,” Harry agreed.

“Be careful, Harry,” Neville said, holding eye contact.

“I don’t…” Harry began but halted. “I am. Thank you.” He smiled at Neville. He then added as an afterthought: “It would probably be wise to not mention this to Ron or Hermione. Or Ginny.”

“I agree with that,” Neville said. “I won’t. If anybody asks I’ll just say that some house elf brought us supper.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. After a couple of minutes he got up from the floor and began getting ready for detention.

“See you later, Neville,” he said.

Neville just groaned as reply.

As Harry headed down the stairs he passed Ron and Hermione who were returning from supper. They were carrying two plates loaded with food. He ignored them. Hah.

*

Draco was waiting for Potter at the entrance doors. He had been waiting there for a considerable amount of time, not feeling particularly keen on venturing out in the dark by himself. He was beginning to fear Potter might have taken off without him when he spotted him walking down the stairs and towards Draco.

“Hey,” Potter greeted him.

“Hello, Potter,” Malfoy answered. “Ready to go?”

“Yup. And dressed in several layers. Someone let on earlier that they sensed a storm coming.”

Draco’s lips almost didn’t quirk upwards.

They exited the castle and proceeded towards Hagrid’s hut. The weather was fine and the sky was clear.

“So,” Draco said. “That was some spectacle in the common room earlier.”

“You saw?”

“Potter, everybody saw. It happened in the common room. And even without sound there was a lot of gesturing that attracted people’s attention. It looked rather amusing, what with not being able to hear anything.”

“It wasn’t amusing,” Potter said. He sounded annoyed. Draco didn’t like that.

“I gathered that from the way you stormed off suddenly. And I didn’t say it _seemed_ amusing. I said it _looked_ amusing. I particularly enjoyed the bit where Weasley flicked your nose. And when Granger pulled her wand at you.”

“You would,” Potter said. He still sounded annoyed but less so than before.

“You made Granger cry,” Draco said.

“Oh,” was the response. “I wasn’t aware.”

“You don’t seem too upset about it,” Draco stated.

“I’m not,” Potter said.

“That part was surprisingly unamusing,” Draco said pensively. “But at least the Wea – Weasley – got to comfort her.”

“Well good for him, then. Could we perhaps not talk about them?”

Draco obliged and didn’t push the subject.

“Thanks for the food by the way,” Potter said after a while.

“You already thanked me. Through Dobby. And I quote: ‘The Famous Harry Potter thanks the Little Master. And so does Mr. Longbottom.’.”

“Heh,” Potter said. “I told him to say that. Well, not the Longbottom part. Neville told him that.”

“Did you also tell him to say it in front of Blaise and Pansy?”

Potter snickered. “No, I told him to get you alone or as close to alone as possible. He must have regarded your company at the time as safe.”

“I was questioned for a very long time, Potter,” Draco said. “I would have still been under interrogation if I hadn’t been able to excuse myself with detention.”

Potter laughed.

“I am glad you find it amusing,” Draco said.

“I really do,” Potter said, and Draco could hear a smile in his voice. “It was nice of you to get Dobby to fix something for Neville too. And good idea with the straw.”

“It’s called manners, Potter,” Draco said. “’Nice’ has nothing to do with it.”

“Well, even so,” Potter said softly and Draco was secretly pleased.

They walked on in silence until they reached Hagrid’s hut. Potter knocked on the door which flung open almost immediately. Suddenly Potter’s feet were dangling a foot above the ground as he was being hugged by the huge man.

“Hey, Hagrid,” Potter hissed, appearing to struggle for breath. “It’s good to see you too.”

“Come in, Harry, come in.” The big oaf released Potter and stepped away from the doorway, gesturing for them to enter his… hut. “An’ the young Mr. Malfoy, too, o’course. Would yeh like some tea and cake? Baked ‘em meself.”

Draco saw Potter shaking his head vigorously behind the half-giant and gathered that he had encountered Hagrid’s baked goods before. Not that Draco would ever dream of eating something that big oaf had made himself. The mere thought…

“Thanks, Hagrid, but no, not tonight,” Potter said. “I think we would rather like to get going so we can get back to the castle and get a decent night’s sleep. There’s class tomorrow, after all.”

“Right, yes. O’course.” He sounded disappointed. “Let’s get on with it then. I meant ter join yeh but Fang’s been under the weather an’ I don’t want ter leave him alone. He’s a right big baby when he’s ill.”

Draco looked at the giant incredulously. “You’re going to send us into the Forbidden Forest? Alone?”

 “Don’t fret, nothin’ dangerous o’course. Wouldn’t dream of it. Nothin’ I wouldn’t do meself,” Hagrid said.

“Right,” Potter said slowly. He looked very sceptical. And a little alarmed. Draco in no way found that consoling since Potter was supposed to be the bold and brave one. “Perhaps we should come back some other time. When Fang is feeling better. Then we could all go.”

The big oaf laughed, reminding Draco a little bit about Slughorn. “Oh, Harry. Tryin’ ter reschedule yeh way out of detention, eh?” He tapped the side of his enormous nose twice with a finger and winked. “Nah, Ye’ll be fine. Ye’re goin’ to be collectin’ Acromantula egg shells.” He was beaming. Draco eyed Potter who was standing with his mouth wide open, looking horrified. That didn’t bode well. “They hatched,” he said. “An’ Slughorn asked fer the shells.”

“ _Are you out of your mind_?” Draco all but shouted. “We can’t do that. Acromantula are very dangerous creatures.”

“Oh, they’re just misunderstood. Harry knows, right Harry? Ye’ve met them. Even seen their nest. Ye’ll be able to find it easily.”

Draco turned his attention to Potter. When on earth had he had reason to seek out an Acromantula nest?

“And I vividly recall very nearly being eaten, too,” Potter said sharply. “And besides, I didn’t think they wanted you to enter their nest again after Aragog died.”

The huge man beamed again. “I made friends with the new leader,” he said proudly. “Erling is his name.” Grawp helped mediating.”

“I can imagine,” Potter said dryly.

“Now get on with yeh. Ye’ll be fine. Just tell’em Hagrid sent yeh.” When they both hesitated to move, Hagrid winked and said “Yeh don’t want me ter report yeh ter Slughorn, do yeh?” He laughed at his own would-be joke. He reminded Draco more and more of Slughorn. The giant looked up. “Now, yeh best get goin’. I sense a storm comin’.” Yes, Draco thought. Definitely Slughorn.

Hagrid ushered them out of the cabin. They both stood frozen on his doorstep.

“Fuck,” Potter exclaimed, sounding slightly panicked. “ _Fuck_. He’s gone crazy. Off his rocker. Mad.”

“You’re not making the situation better, Potter,” Draco hissed. “You’re supposed to be the brave Gryffindor. You’re supposed to say everything is going to be alright and then if it turns out not to be swoop in and save the day.”

In the dim light that was seeping out from the cabin, Draco saw Potter look at him. “I’ve met them. I would rather have a close encounter with Voldemort right now than walk into their nest.”

“That’s not consoling at all, Potter,” Draco hissed again. “Can’t we just, you know, go somewhere to the outskirts of the forest and stay a while and then come back and say we couldn’t find any.”

“Of course not,” Potter said. “He’s my friend and we promised him.”

“And out comes the foolishly daring and loyal to a fault Gryffindor,” Draco said. And it wasn’t a compliment.

“We’ll just find their nest and… wing it somehow.”

“Wing it?” Draco said. “You want us to wander into an Acromantula nest and _wing it_? You are out of your mind, Potter.”

“I must be,” Potter said and started walking towards the forest.

“If that’s how you usually make plans it’s no wonder you always end up in some sort of trouble.”

“I’ll have you notice that I also always find myself _out_ of trouble again.”

They had walked for some time and were a good mile into the forest when a rumble sounded in the distance.

“ _Was that thunder or are we going to get trampled by a hoard of angry Centaurs, do you_ _think_?” Draco whispered.

“ _Thunder_ ,” Potter whispered back. “ _A hoard of angry Centaurs sounds more… insisting, somehow_.”

Really? Potter had encountered an angry hoard of Centaurs? Of course he had. He was Harry bloody Potter. A lightning bolt in the distance agreed with Potter’s statement about the thunder.

“ _Is there anything you haven’t experienced in here_?” Draco whispered.

“ _Probably not a lot_ ,” Potter answered back in a whisper.

“ _Well, remind me to get the Harry Potter Chronicles some_ _time_ ,” Draco said quietly.

They went on for a while until Potter suddenly stopped. “ _We’re close_.”

Oh fuck.

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” Draco whispered.

“ _My_ _thoughts exactly_ ,” Potter whispered back. He stood still for a while. Draco imagined he was most likely gnawing at his lip. “ _Okay, here’s what we do: Move forward very slowly and very quietly_.” Draco rolled his eyes. That much had seemed evident. “ _If you spot something resembling egg shells, let me know. I’ll do the same if I spot them first. Then we Accio them, stuff them in the bag and leave very quietly but as quickly as possible_.”

“ _That could actually work_ ,” Draco whispered.

They proceeded forward very slowly and very quietly, until Potter pulled at Draco’s sleeve.

“ _There_ ,” Potter whispered and pointed at something white, shining in the moonlight about thirty yards ahead of them.

They both pointed their wands and nonverbally accio’ed them. As the shells whooshed quietly through the air, some of them caught on the edge of a huge web. In the quiet of the night, a barely audible ‘twang’ sounded. Both boys froze. Draco hardly dared breathe. The egg shells scattered at their feet. Potter bent down and started scooping them up in the bag while keeping his eyes on the nest. Draco bent down and helped. At one point, Potter stopped scooping and sat very still.

“ _Run_ ,” he whispered.

Draco snapped his head to the side and looked at him. “ _What did you say?_ ”

Potter stood up. “RUN. NOW,” he shouted.

So they did. Draco wasn’t a frequent visitor in the forest so he had absolutely no idea what they were running towards. Potter seemed to be searching for something, though, so Draco followed in his trace. At one point he made the mistake of looking back only to see a very large amount of very big and very (Draco assumed) angry spiders closing in rapidly. This is it, Draco thought. He was going to die, eaten by spiders with no body for the casket for his mother to say goodbye to.

Suddenly Potter shouted “GRAWP”, and Draco nearly stopped to ask him if he was okay. “GRAWP,” he shouted again and ran towards a big moss covered (at least that’s what it looked like in the dark) rock. Potter grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him along. It shot a tingle up Draco’s arm. “GRAWP, WAKE UP!” he shouted.

Suddenly the big rock moved and rose high in the air. “Hagger?” it said.

“HAGRID’S FINE, GRAWP,” Potter shouted. “WE NEED HELP.”

The rock bent down and scooped Draco and Potter up in one hand and placed them at the top of a tree. It then turned towards the angry spiders and started kicking, hitting and throwing them around, until finally, _finally_ they retreated.

“Hagger?” the rock said again.

“He’s fine, Grawp,” Potter said. “He’s at his hut.”

The rock – Grawp, apparently – turned around and started walking towards the castle with huge steps, shouting “HAGGER”.

“GRAWP, WAIT,” Potter shouted. But Grawp didn’t. Potter sighed. “I guess we’ll have to stay here for a while, just to make sure they’re not coming back.”

“What was that?” Draco asked.

“Hagrid’s brother,” Harry answered.

“He has a brother? Who lives here?” Draco asked.

“Well it’s actually his half-brother.”

“Same difference I should think.”

“Yes, well, it’s actually sort of a secret, so _please_ don’t tell anyone. If someone finds out, they would send him back to the mountains, and he’d be bullied because he’s so small and it would just devastate Hagrid. He struggled very hard to get him here.”

“I can imagine,” Draco said. “I wouldn’t exactly call him small, though.”

“He has actually come to the rescue before. In 5th year,” Potter informed.

“Really?” Draco asked. “What happened in 5th year?”

“Remember that angry hoard of Centaurs?”

“Right,” Draco said. At some point he would have to get Potter to elaborate but he really didn’t think his poor mind could contain it at present. “What should we do now?”

“Wait. Make sure they’re not coming back. If Grawp is visiting Hagrid he won’t be able to help us again.”

“Okay then,” Draco said. “I am just going to sit here, pretending that spending the evening in a tree top with Harry Potter is nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Good plan,” Potter said. “I’ll do the same.”

“Please tell me you have the egg shells,” Draco said after a while.

“I thought you had them,” Potter said. “Oh shit, we’re going to have to go back for them.”

“ _Are you out of your mind_?” Draco hissed.

“Heh, got you, I have them,” Potter said and laughed.

“That was not funny,” Draco said but couldn’t help snickering.

Soon they were both sitting there, in the top of a tree, laughing their heads off. That is, until a lightning bolt flashed not far from them, followed by a loud boom of thunder. Then the sky opened, and it was pouring down on them, only sparsely sheltered by leaves.

“Oh that is just such a cliché,” Draco said. Potter leaned his head back and laughed.

Eventually they found it safe to climb down and proceed out of the forest and up to the castle. There hadn’t been many branches to help their climb down the tree, so they were both covered in leaves, twigs and scratches. And soaking wet.

As they made their way up to the common room after having placed the egg shells on Slughorn’s desk, Potter looked at his watch.

“It’s not even half eleven yet. I’d have thought it would be way past midnight. Probably more like nearing three o’ clock or thereabouts.”

“So that would mean that the common room is most likely still packed with people,” Draco said.

“Ugh,” Potter exclaimed. “Do you want to wait until more people have gone to bed?”

“No, I’m freezing,” Draco said. “I want a hot shower. And I’m pretty sure my hair is in desperate need of care. It must look dreadful.”

Potter snickered. “It really does.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

“But in a very elegant sort of way, of course,” Potter added gravely.

“Of course,” Draco said. “I am the picture of elegance no matter what my attire.”

Potter chuckled. “Absolutely,” he said.

It was the same sort of chuckle that had made Draco’s stomach flutter on previous occasions. Tonight was no exception.

As they entered the common room, everybody in there stopped what they were doing and looked at Potter and Draco. He could only imagine the sight they made. He knew the state Potter was in, and he had a feeling he resembled him quite well. And both of them were dripping puddles on the floor.

The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Had a roll in the hay?” Smith said and laughed at his own joke.

Draco raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “Since when does hay contain leaves, twigs and moss? Idiot! And no, we have not had a roll on the forest floor either.” Draco glanced around the common room. Blaise, Pansy and Millicent were there, several from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and all of the Gryffindors except Longbottom. “I have had the misfortune of gaining first-hand insight in the adventures of Harry freaking Potter. Now if you will all excuse me.” Draco hurriedly retired to his own dorm, desperate for a long, hot shower and his wonderfully soft bed.

*

Harry spent a good part of Friday ignoring Ron and Hermione. He hadn’t spoken to either of them after getting back from detention the evening before. He had just gone to take a hot shower and then straight to bed. Neville was already asleep in his bed so Harry had no problem just going to bed, closing the blinds and pretending to sleep when the others went to bed.

He got up early as the first class of the day was Herbology and he knew from experience that getting from the Great Hall to the greenhouses would take an enormous amount of time for Neville, even with help. Harry had been right to assume that Smith wouldn’t let Neville’s boils disappear Thursday at midnight like Parkinson had Harry’s. He would most likely make it a full week. Prick. Getting up that early meant avoiding Ron and Hermione for breakfast and seeing as he was walking down with Neville anyway, he might as well partner up with him. Both Ron and Hermione tried to talk to him on several occasions but he was still very upset with both of them and either just didn’t answer or simply walked away. At lunch he pointedly squeezed himself in between Neville and Ginny, ignoring the free space next to Hermione and across from Ron. He finished lunch without uttering a single word to them. Instead he tried to pay attention to Lavender swooning over some 6th year Ravenclaw who was apparently ‘sooo cute and sooo hot’.

After lunch he pulled Ginny along with him to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to have a quickie. It was mechanical and unsatisfying – well, not _entirely_ unsatisfying, obviously, but also not on the top fifty.

“Harry, are you all right?” Ginny asked as she was pulling up her knickers. “You seem a little distant. And you hardly spoke a word at lunch and not a single word to Ron or Hermione. Did you fight?”

“Yes,” Harry stated, not elaborating.

“What about?” she asked.

Harry contemplated whether it would be wise to tell her and settled on a modified version of it. “They pulled me aside yesterday afternoon to have a chat. They are worried I’m going to cheat on you with Malfoy. I told them I wasn’t. They wouldn’t let it rest. Ron threatened me. Eventually I got upset and left. Haven’t spoken since.”

“He threatened you?” Ginny asked. “Seriously?”

Harry nodded. “Said that if I ever cheated on you I’d spend a lot of time looking over my shoulder.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe that stupid git. That’s so unfair.”

Harry was relieved that she thought so, too. “I know, right?”

Ginny sat down on the floor, resting her back against a cubicle door. She patted the floor and Harry sat down next to her.

“About Malfoy, though,” Ginny began. “Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand why you’re upset with them – but if you really, _really_ think about it, can you at least see a tiny bit of sense in their concern?”

Harry supposed so, so he nodded. “I want you to know, Ginny, that I mean it when I say that I’m not going to cheat on you.”

“I know, Harry,” she said. “I know.” She put her arm around him and nuzzled his hair.

“I think I’m bi,” Harry blurted out after a couple of moments’ silence.

“Huh,” Ginny said. “Well I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“No?”

“No. I mean, honestly Harry, nobody kisses that enthusiastically without being physically attracted to each other.”

“And you’re okay with it? That I find another bloke attractive?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I mean, as long as you don’t act on it it’s fine.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But Harry, please promise me that if you ever find yourself attracted to more than his looks – or somebody else’s for that matter – and decide that you do want to act on it, you’ll tell me first, right?”

“I’m not going to want to act on it as it’s nothing more than a physical attraction.”

“Right,” Ginny said, sounding like she didn’t quite believe him. “Just promise me anyway.”

“Sure,” Harry said. “If you do, too.”

“Me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “With Zabini. I hear you make quite the couple when you make out.”

To his chagrin, Ginny blushed. “Don’t worry, Harry,” she said. “I have no plans of engaging in an affair with Blaise more than I already have.”

That didn’t sound right. “What do you mean ‘more than you already have’?”

Her blush deepened. “You know; with the dares,” she said.

“Oh, right. Still, promise?” Harry asked.

“I promise,” she said. “And I also promise I won’t get mad when you do things with other people on dares. I won’t pretend to like all of it, though, even though most of them are rather entertaining. But I won’t be angry. Or jealous.”

“Ginny, would you like me to stop joining the Friday night games?” Harry asked, hoping she wouldn’t say yes.

“No,” she said, and Harry was secretly relieved. “I appreciate the offer, though. Would you like me to stop joining the games?”

Harry wanted to say yes. That it was stressful to know that she was there and be upset about him doing or not doing something or him being upset about her doing something. It didn’t seem fair, though. “No,” he answered. “But I think we need to state for the record that what we do on those dares are not things that we would normally do and that they shouldn’t matter in the bigger picture.”

“That sounds like a clever thing to do,” she said and smiled. “We’ll have so much more fun now that we can do whatever they set on us without any of us being upset. And you’ll never have to get boils again.”

Harry didn’t want to start another argument by pointing out that that hadn’t been because _he_ didn’t want to but because he knew Hermione didn’t. He enjoyed their new-found peace.

“It was nice talking to you, Ginny,” he said. “We haven’t done that much lately.”

“True,” she said and pecked his nose. “Better get going. We’re going to be late for class.”

“I have Divination now,” Harry said, standing up. “Trelawny will have already predicted I’m going to be late.”

Ginny laughed. “Most likely, yeah. I’m late for Herbology and Neville’s going to murder me if I slack off with all the time he’s putting into me.”

“That’s right,” Harry said, having completely forgotten about the tutoring. “How is that working out for you?”

“Excellent,” Ginny said and smiled. They left the bathroom. Before they separated Harry thought of something. “I should warn you,” he said. “Ron and Hermione might try to give you the ‘don’t-cheat-talk’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I pointed out to them that it was completely unfair they were only telling me not to cheat. Sorry.”

“I guess that’s only fair,” Ginny said. “See you later.” She blew a kiss at him and ran down the hall.

Even though he felt much better after having spoken to Ginny, he continued to ignore Ron all through Divination, just to let him roast. It pleased him to see the distressed look on his friend’s face.

When Divination finished, thus concluding his lessons for the week, Harry sat himself at one of the study tables in the common room. After a while Ron joined him at the table. He sat down apprehensively. Harry didn’t acknowledge him or tell him to stay, but he also didn’t tell him to go away.

After a couple of hours Hermione came charging into the common room.

“ _You were chased by Acromantula_?” she shrieked, attracting the attention of several of the other occupants of the common room.

Ron’s head snapped up, eyes wide open. “What?”

“Hello Hermione,” Harry said calmly. “Yes, we were.”

“Oh Harry,” she said and flung herself around his neck.

He patted her back. “There, there,” he said. “As you see I’m still here.”

“You were chased by Acromantula? On last night’s detention?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Hagrid wanted us to collect some Acromantula egg shells for Slughorn. Fang was ‘under the weather’ –” Harry made quotation marks with his fingers “– so Hagrid sent us in by ourselves, seeing as I know where the nest is and that they’re just ‘seriously misunderstood creatures’.” Ron snorted and Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “We found the nest, gathered some shells and, of course, they woke up and chased us. Apparently they have a new leader called Erling. How do you know anyway?”

“I heard Malfoy and Zabini talk about it in Ancient Runes. I thought Malfoy was exaggerating at first but…”

“Well, it was true. I can’t say that he didn’t exaggerate, though. It is Malfoy after all,” Harry said.

Hermione had pulled out a chair and joined them at the table. “He was very vague about how you got away from them. He said that you outran them. I find that hard to believe.”

Harry looked around the common room to see if anyone might be listening. No-one seemed to be paying attention to them, though. “Grawp helped us,” he whispered. “I asked Malfoy not to tell anybody about him.”

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him in wonder. “And he agreed?” Hermione asked.

“Well it sounds like he hasn’t told anyone, so…”

“He’s probably saving the information as blackmail material for future use,” Ron said. Harry chose not to answer and Ron didn’t pursue it.

“Okay, so you were chased by Acromantula, then what happened?” Hermione asked, getting the conversation back on track.

“I led us to the area Grawp inhabits and screamed at him to wake up. Eventually he did and lifted us up and set us down in a tree top, and then proceeded to kick and throw the Acromantula until they retreated. It was quite a sight. Then he asked after Hagrid and I told him he was in his hut and he hurried off to go see him, leaving us there. So we waited a while to make sure they weren’t coming back and then climbed down. And of course it started pouring down while we were stuck in a tree top.”

“Hagrid’s mad,” Ron said while shaking his head.

“No argument there,” Harry said.

Hermione took his hand. “Listen, Harry, we’re very sorry about how we treated you. It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Harry agreed. “But it’s okay. I talked to Ginny today. It was nice. I warned her you might try to talk to her.”

“We have an appointment with her later,” Hermione admitted.

Harry couldn’t help smiling. “An _appointment_?”

“You can call it a session of ‘Analysing Ginny’,” Ron said, smiling sheepishly.

Harry smiled at his two best friends. “Let’s just agree to leave the subject alone for a while, yeah?”

They sat in silence for a while, doing their homework, when Hermione suddenly straightened up as if she had just thought of something.

“Who brought you supper last night?” she asked curiously. “Neville just said some house elf brought it. It wasn’t easy to understand what he was saying, though, with all the moaning and groaning.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It was Dobby.”

“Dobby?” Ron said. “How did he know you weren’t down for supper?”

“Malfoy visited him in the kitchen and said that I might not be down for supper so would he be so good as to bring me and Neville something. Even thought to ask for a straw for Neville,” Harry said, defiantly holding eye contact with Ron.

Ron looked as if he desperately wanted to say something.

“Is there something you would like to say about that, Ron?” Harry asked, still holding eye contact.

Ron shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“Good,” Harry said.

“Huh,” Hermione said and went back to doing her homework.

Not long after, she and Ron got up and left for their ‘appointment’ with Ginny. Harry shook his head at the thought and went to his dorm to take a nap before supper. He greeted Neville who was a whimpering mess, went to bed and fell asleep.

*

Having relayed yesterday evening’s events to Blaise who told the rest of the Slytherins who asked Draco to relay it to them, it spread like wildfire and soon all the 7th years were retelling different varieties of the story, some more accurate than others. Draco was uncertain as to why he hadn’t told them about Grawp. He knew very well that it was very out of character for him to not say something in that situation as it would both add to the story and get that big-oaf-sorry-excuse-for-a-teacher in trouble. But Potter had asked him not to. And since it would get Potter’s friend in trouble if Draco told anybody, he chose not to tell as he didn’t want to ruin the amicable relationship he and Potter had. For the purpose of getting along on their future detentions, of course. It could also be used as effective blackmail material in the future, though Draco knew that he probably wouldn’t use it.

 

For this Friday night’s game, someone suggested they try something different, which was seconded by most. They were going to play seven minutes in heaven, which was apparently a game where you had to spend seven minutes with someone in a cupboard and just do whatever you felt like for that period of time. They decided to make it ten minutes, after Pansy insisted that that left so much more time for ‘the fun stuff’ to happen. Meanwhile the others were going to play spin the bottle, this time with a minimum snogging time of ten seconds and _with_ tongue. Who were going in the cupboard would also be determined by the bottle. Whoever’s turn it was when the ten minutes were up would be the next to go in the cupboard with whomever the bottle landed on. The next to spin would then be the person to the left of whose turn it would have been.

Some had to have it explained several times. Draco thought it made perfect sense.

“Who’s first?” Abbott asked?

“You are, because you asked,” Granger said.

So Abbott spun the bottle which landed on Blaise.

“Have fun,” Daphne shouted after them as they went in.

Finnegan, as always, set the timer.

Several snogs later the timer charm beeped and Granger cast an Alohomora on the lock to the closet. A few seconds later the door swung open and Abbott and Blaise emerged, Abbott looking flushed, dishevelled and a little ashamed but with a small smile playing on her lips, and Blaise looking flushed (as much as was possible to show on his dark skin), dishevelled, satisfied and smirking.

“Your blouse is buttoned askew, Abbott,” Pansy said sweetly, which made Abbott blush deeper as she corrected it. “And your fly is open, Blaise,” she continued. Blaise looked down and moved to zip his trousers. “Hah, got you,” Pansy said, “but now we know what you’ve been up to in there.” She smirked as Blaise flipped her off and Abbott hid her face in her hands.

The evening proceeded with so many different pairings of snogging that it was impossible to keep a track on who kissed whom, except one’s own snogging sessions. Draco had so far kissed Pansy (big deal, they’d already done that tons of times), Bones (insignificant), the Weasel (yuck – just the thought!), Granger (not so bad) and Smith (fucking prick – Draco made sure to bite down on his tongue when the time was up).

It was amusing to watch the people emerging from the cupboard: Corner and Brown were in the same state as Abbott and Blaise; Weasley and Daphne emerged with Weasley blushing furiously and Daphne smirking smugly (honestly, that man was such a prude); Boot and Brown came out, both looking utterly satisfied with love bites covering both their necks. Some couples were more noteworthy than others: Smith and Granger came out with Smith limping and covering his balls and a black eye and Granger huffing as she straightened her outfit and indignantly went back to take her seat, and the Weaselette and Pansy came out, both looking flushed, their clothes dishevelled and smiling sheepishly. Draco looked at Potter who was frowning at the Weaselette.

“Come on, Harry,” she said. “Something’s _supposed_ to happen in there. It’s part of the game. Besides, Parkinson’s a girl.”

Draco half expected Potter to flip and start one of their spectacular arguments but he merely shrugged and said “Okay then”.

Just as the bottle landed on Draco, making him kiss one of the Patil twins, Thomas and Finnegan emerged, both blushing furiously and pointedly not looking each other in the eyes. That made it Draco’s turn to visit the closet. He spun and the bottle seemed to keep on spinning for forever, until it finally settled. On Potter. Draco didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the thought about spending ten minutes in a dark cupboard with Potter wasn’t so bad. On second hand, it was.

Draco stood up. “Well Potter, shall we?”

Potter got up and they entered the closet. The door closed and the lock clicked, and it was pitch dark.

“You’re not going to panic on me are you?” Potter asked.

Draco was about to ask Potter what he meant but remembered then that he had already admitted to being scared of – no, not scared of; Malfoys don’t get scared – _not overly fond of_ the dark. “No. It’s not so bad when it’s a small confined space.”

“I hate small spaces,” Potter said.

“ _You’re_ not going to panic on _me_ , are you?” Draco asked, half joking.

“I’ll try not to,” Potter said, sounding a little too serious to Draco’s taste. “It’s not so bad if someone else is there and if I know I can get out. Do you want to see if there’s room enough to sit down?”

There was; if not comfortably, then acceptable. They were sitting nearly shoulder to shoulder and with their legs bent in front of them.

“I see you made up with the W… with Weasley and Granger?”

“Yeah,” Potter answered.

“What did you fight about anyway?” Draco asked. “I mean, I have seen you not getting along with one of them once in a while but never both at the same time. And never to the point where you completely ignore them and walk away without a word.”

“Well aren’t you the observant one,” Potter said and didn’t elaborate. Draco assumed Potter found it none of Draco’s business. Then after a moment’s silence he said quietly: “You. We were fighting about you.”

“Me? What have I done now?”

“Well, it was more about me than you, really,” Potter said. “They’re afraid I’m going to cheat on Ginny with you.”

That was surprising. “Why?”

“Apparently it has been noticed that we can be rather… passionate when kissing. So they asked if I thought I might be bisexual and we figured I probably was. When that was settled they got scared that I was attracted to more than your looks and that I was going to cheat on Ginny. I told them I wasn’t. Ron didn’t believe me so he got angry and threatened me, and then I got angry that they were only talking to me about cheating and not Ginny, since she isn’t exactly a saint. And frankly, if anyone is likely to cheat in this relationship, it’s her. Then I told them to go fuck themselves. I guess that sums it up.”

Draco had not seen that one coming and was struggling to think of something clever to say, so he just said the first things that came to mind. “Oh… I… That’s… Well… You’re bi?”

“Um… Yeah, I think I might be,” Potter admitted.

“And you’re attracted to my looks,” Draco said smugly, making sure the smirk could be heard in his voice.

“I didn’t say that,” Potter said, way too fast for it not to be true.

“Yes you did,” Draco said. “It’s quite all right. I’d be attracted to me, too. I am rather dashing.”

Potter snorted. “They’re also fairly certain we’re not indifferent to each other.”

“Yes, well,” Draco said. “Perhaps we could be not indifferent when we’re on detention and in Potions and then it would be easier to act indifferently in public.”

“I kind of feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” Potter said. “And can’t we just call it courteous and not indifferent? I don’t want to be indifferent to you. Besides, nobody believes it anyway. And if we agree to not be indifferent to each other and agree on getting along, but not more than that, Ron and Hermione won’t bother me about not believing me.”

“Well, it _would_ get your friends off your back and my friends off mine.”

“Your friends are on your back, too?” Potter asked.

“Yes.”

“What about?”

“Same thing.”

“They’re afraid you’re going to cheat on Pansy? With me?” Potter asked.

“No, Pansy and I are just fuck buddies on occasion.”

“Then what?” Potter insisted.

“They think I’m attracted to you,” Draco admitted. “And that you’re attracted to me.”

“Oh,” Potter said. “Well, I _am_ rather dashing.”

Draco laughed. He didn’t mention that they thought he was attracted to more than Potter’s looks. There was absolutely no reason to share that information.

“Well, let’s keep our ‘ _relationship_ ’ courteous then. And not pretend indifference. They don’t believe that anyway, and we don’t want to add fuel to their fire. They’re annoying enough as it is,” Potter said.

“Okay then. It’s a deal,” Draco said.

“Shake on it?” Potter asked. To Draco, that was almost symbolic.

They tried to find each other’s hands for a shake but it was difficult seeing as there was absolutely no source of light in the small closet, so it came to some fondling of each other’s arms, until they finally managed to grab hold of each other’s hands and shake.

Neither of them let go afterwards and neither of them spoke. Draco suddenly felt Potter stroke the back of his hand with his thumb and momentarily he stopped breathing. Then he started stroking the back of Potter’s hand. Without really planning to or thinking much at all, he turned his head and leaned in slightly. He was soon met by Potter’s lips. The kiss was slow and tentative at first and somehow extremely intense because of the dark. Potter released Draco’s hand and soon after he felt it stroking up his arm and rest on Draco’s neck. Draco moved his own hand up to cup Potter’s jaw and further up to rest in the unruly bird’s nest that was Potter’s hair. When he pulled slightly, he felt Potter’s breath hitch and suddenly the kiss intensified. A lot.

“Up,” Potter breathed, and they both clumsily stood up while trying not to break the kiss. As soon as they were both standing up, they wrapped their arms around each other, pulling each other closer. Draco could feel Potter’s erection lined up against his own and let out an embarrassingly unmanly whimper. At the sound, Potter pushed Draco hard against the closet wall, grinding their groins together and sucking Draco’s neck and collarbone, making Draco whimper again.

“Isn’t this violating the ‘no cheating policy’?” Draco asked, panting.

“No,” Potter stated. He moved a hand down to cup and squeeze Draco’s cock outside the trousers. “I hear there’s _supposed_ to happen things in here. Besides, you’re a boy, so…” he quoted the Weaselette and Draco couldn’t help a snicker.

“How much time do you think is left?” Draco asked, not wanting to be caught at it.

“Four minutes,” Potter answered. “Maybe three. So shut up.”

They kissed and sucked and nibbled each other’s mouths, necks and collarbones and rutted against each other. Potter slid his hands up Draco’s back under his shirt and scratched down from the shoulders to the small of the back, sure to leave marks, making Draco moan with pleasure. In return Draco let his hands slip under Potter’s shirt and twist his nipples, causing Potter’s breath to hitch again. Eventually they ended up with Potter’s elbows resting against the closet wall on either side of Draco’s shoulders and with Draco cupping Potter’s arse and pulling him closer, gaining friction. They were grinding against each other like mad, moaning and panting. Draco let out a few of those embarrassing small whimpers but they seemed to excite Potter so he chose not to try to hold them back. Potter was breathing into the crook of Draco’s neck and Draco’s head rested against the wall. Soon Potter’s panting became faster and shallower and the grinding uneven, and then he shook, letting out a low, guttural sound and bit down hard in the crook of Draco’s neck as he had done with the Weaselette. The delicious pain of the bite pushed Draco over the edge and he came hard and forcefully in his trousers. They stood for a while, resting against each other, regaining their breath until Potter cast a cleaning charm on both of them and stepped back a bit.

Just then, the click of the lock was heard.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Potter hissed.

Draco thought frantically of something to do. He could only imagine what they looked like; shirts partly out of their trousers, hair in a mess, puffed lips and out of breath. And a fucking bite mark on Draco’s neck. Because he was pretty sure that Potter had bit hard enough to leave a bruise. There was only one thing to do, really. Apparently Potter thought the same.

“Insult me,” Potter said.

“You suck,” Draco answered.

“So do you,” Potter retorted.

As if agreed upon, they simultaneously punched each other in the face; Potter hit Draco’s cheekbone (again) and Draco hit Potter’s mouth, splitting his lip. He also kicked Potter in the shin for good measure.

“Ow, _fuck_ , Potter,” Draco hissed, cupping his cheek (again). “A little imagination would be appreciated. My cheek is really starting to resent you.”

Potter was bent down, cupping his shin. “Likewise you prick,” Potter said. “I seem to recall rather vividly you kicking me in the shins last Friday as well.”

Just then the doors swung open and they were met by curious eyes.

“Merlin,” Brown said. “What on earth happened in there?”

Draco felt it best to put on a show for the audience as to make it believable. “He insulted me.”

“You insulted me first.” Potter was still cupping his shin.

“You were practically asking for it,” Draco answered in accordance with the truth.

“How did you insult each other?” Blaise asked. Draco thought he looked like he didn’t believe a word. Fucking observant prick.

Potter seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Draco and was quick to improvise. “He insulted my mother,” he said.

Now that just wasn’t fair, Draco thought. “You’re completely overreacting,” he said. “As always, you fucking Gryffindor.”

“Well you did,” Potter said.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Blaise was sitting with an eyebrow raised, looking very sceptical. That just would not do.

“I said she was dead,” Draco improvised. “That’s hardly an insult – it’s called the truth. Idiot.”

“You’re such a prick, Malfoy,” the Weaselette butted in. And _that_ was just not okay. No way was he going to be the bad guy here.

“And besides, you insulted my mother first,” Draco said. Potter looked startled and Draco raised his eyebrows in a ‘two-can-play-at-that-game’ sort of way.

“I most certainly did not,” Potter said and crossed his arms.

“You did too,” Draco said. “You said she was a sorry ex-wife of a worthless death eater and she was only accomplishing to stay alive because ‘ _your people’_ –“ Draco made quotation marks with his fingers “– took pity on her after her cowardly good-for-nothing-sorry-excuse-for a son of a lousy, rotten, disgrace-to-the-Malfoy-name death eater betrayed said death eater and FORCIBLY UPROOTED HER AND MADE HER STAY IN SOME _FUCKING_ SAFE HOUSE ALL ALONE WITH  NO-ONE FOR COMPANY BUT A _FUCKING_ _CREEPY_ HOUSE ELF.”

When he had finished talking, he blinked a couple of times, confused about what in Merlin’s name had just happened. That was not what he had meant to say. When he looked at Potter, the other man looked as if Draco had slapped him, a mixture of hurt, confusion, anger and pity. Draco suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fuck you, Potter. I fucking hate you,” he said quietly in lack of better words and sat down.

“ _Harry!_ ” the Weaselette shrieked. Couldn’t that stupid bint just shut the fuck up? “I can’t _believe_ you’d say that. That’s so unbelievably cruel.”

“I…” Potter said. He was dumbfounded.

Draco took a look around the circle. All eyes were fixed on Potter. It was a mixture of surprised and reproachful looks, even the Weasel looked uncomfortable. All eyes fixed on Potter, except Pansy, Blaise and Granger who were all staring intently at Draco. Draco could feel his heart pounding harder and harder. He could feel his eyes stinging and his nose starting to run and suddenly he just had to get out of there. So he stood up and quickly headed for the exit.

He walked aimlessly through corridors, down staircases and after a while found himself outside the castle in the courtyard. He walked over to one of the stone benches and sat down. Then he stood up again. After a while he sat down and then stood up once more. He crossed his arms in a sort of self-hug and stood looking at the stars.

“Hey,” someone said softly behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey,” he answered.

Potter stood himself next to Draco and also watched the stars.

“That was quite an insult I made there.”

“It was,” Draco answered.

“I’m sorry,” Potter said quietly.

“What for?” Draco asked. “It wasn’t really you.”

“I know. But I should have never brought up mother-insults.”

“Did people… What happened after I left?” Draco asked.

“I took quite a badgering.  People were appalled that I would even think to insinuate about your mother that she was only alive out of pity. Even Ron thought I was out of line. Apparently talking ill about mothers is just not on. Though it didn’t really insult your mother all that much, I think.”

“Did you tell them it wasn’t real?”

“No. I’ve had worse things said about me. I don’t care. Plus, I’m pretty sure Hermione, Zabini and Parkinson all caught on to the fact that I would never use the phrase ‘a disgrace to the Malfoy name’ in a sentence. But I think I scored you some cheap points with the rest of them.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Are you okay, Draco?” Potter asked quietly. There was real concern in his voice.

Draco could say ‘yes, I’m fine, you can go up again’ or ‘I didn’t give you permission to call me by my given name’ or ‘mind your own business’. But he didn’t.

“No,” he said.

Draco heard his own voice crack. His nose started to run again and he couldn’t help a sniffle. So undignified. Soon after, he felt Potter’s arm around his shoulder. Draco felt his eyes starting to well up and pressed the heels of his hands against them to try to hold back the stupid tears that threatened to escape them. He sniffled again and made an involuntary sob. Draco felt Potter shift to stand in front of him and suddenly both Potter’s arms were around him, embracing him in a hug. Draco let his arms fall to his sides and felt Potter squeeze tighter. Then he rested his forehead on Potter’s shoulder and started crying. Potter didn’t say anything, thank goodness, but only stood still with his arms around Draco.

Eventually Draco’s sobs stilled and he just stood, quietly accepting Potter’s strokes up and down his back and breathing in the scent of the Gryffindor whose shoulder his head was still resting on. With the silent night and starlit sky it was a perfect kissing-moment, Draco thought. If, of course, he was standing with a person he actually liked _that_ way. Which he wasn’t.

“It would violate all rules and regulations of the no-cheating-policy if I kissed you now,” Potter said matter-of-factly as if reading Draco’s mind.

“So don’t,” Draco answered into Potter’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Potter said. Reluctantly? “Besides, someone split my lip. It would only hurt.” Draco let out a small chuckle at the last remark. “Come,” Potter continued. “Let’s sit for a bit.”

They moved to the stone bench Draco hat previously sat on and sat down. Draco shivered at the feel of the cold stone and Potter put his arm around him. Draco let it stay. Because of the warmth.

“I hate it when you see me cry,” Draco said, remembering the previous year where Potter had found him in the bathroom.

“Please don’t curse me,” Potter said.

“I won’t. If you don’t curse me,” Draco answered.

“I won’t,” Potter promised.

The sat for a while in relatively pleasant silence, until Draco eventually broke it. “I just feel so fucking guilty.”

“What for?” Potter asked. “For saving her from an insane megalomaniac who threatens to kill or enslave more than two thirds of the wizarding population, not to mention a fair amount of muggles? For saving her from a crazy person who lets other people do who-knows-what to her in the middle of the night? For saving her from the pain of knowing that you can hear her when she screams without being able to do anything about it? For saving her from the pain of seeing her son tortured and threatened.”

Draco looked down. “I made her choose between her husband and her son. I didn’t even give her time to say goodbye. I told my house elf he would have to get her right away. Pack a trunk and then leave immediately. I uprooted her. She’s all alone now. She has no-one.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me, but it doesn’t sound like it was a hard choice to make. If she had had any doubts she most likely would have stayed. And yes, you removed her from the house and people she knows – the life she knows. But living in pain and fear isn’t really much of a life at all, is it? I mean, yes, she is alone at the moment and probably more so than what is usually healthy, but don’t you think she prefers that to being around people she is in constant fear of? And isn’t it a comfort for you to know that she is safe rather than surrounded by people who might hurt her? And she doesn’t have no-one. She has you.”

“I guess,” Draco said. “It makes sense coming out of your mouth.”

“Of course it does,” Potter said as if it were obvious. “Plus,” he continued, “I happen to know that the house has a very extensive library. And being a Black she probably knows a lot of the portraits.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Draco said.

“And don’t you feel more secure knowing she’s not being tortured and who-knows-what-else when you’re not there to comfort her after?”

“I do,” Draco said. “But… What if the safe house isn’t really safe after all? If they find her and punish her for leaving. Or kill her.”

“It’s safe,” Potter said matter-of-factly. When Draco opened his mouth to argue Potter continued. “It’s under the Fidelius charm.”

“Oh,” Draco said. “May I ask who the secret keeper is? We were given notes to read and memorise when we were moved there. I thought it odd at the time.”

“It was Dumbledore originally,” Potter explained. “Then he died and the Order wasn’t sure if it was possible to put it under a new Fidelius charm. Turned out it was.”

“Then who is it now?” Draco asked.

“Me,” he answered.

“Oh. That explains the horrendous handwriting.”

Potter snorted.

“Well, I’ll just have to trust you then, won’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. Do you find that hard?”

“No,” Draco answered.

“Good. And hey, you should tell your mother that she should just feel free to do whatever she can to make herself at home; chuck out what she wants – redecorate or whatever she feels like. I’ll compensate her for any expenses. Might take her mind off things.”

“I’ll tell her,” Draco said. “Thank you.” After a while he thought of something. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Do you mean like _here_ -here –“ Potter patted the bench with the arm that wasn’t draped over Draco’s shoulder. “– or like the bigger picture with the Universe and stuff?”

Draco snorted. “ _Here_ -here, Potter. I would have thought that if anybody were to come after me it would have been Blaise or Pansy.”

“Yes, well. I seemed to have some sort of silent conversation with Blaise after you left when everybody else was berating me. At least, I think _he_ was having a silent conversation with me. He seemed to be trying to talk to me without words. I think it worked fine for him – I have no clue what was said. Well; what was being not-said. But at the end he sort of nodded and I took that as his way of saying ‘you go after him’. I figured he’d come get me if I misinterpreted so…”

Draco chuckled. “Thank you, Potter.”

“No problem, Malfoy. After all, I insulted your mother, so I’d better apologise, no?

Draco let out a small laugh. “Well, you are forgiven. Could we maybe, you know, not let everybody know that it wasn’t true?”

“Of course,” Potter said.

Draco felt Potter fidgeting next to him, shifting in his seat. He removed his arm from Draco’s shoulder. Then he fidgeted some more.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Potter, what is it you want to say?”

Potter didn’t answer immediately. “I was just thinking…” he said and trailed off.

“Congratulations,” Draco said, only mildly sarcastically. “In general or about something in particular?”

“I was wondering – can’t we just agree to be friends? You know, us. With each other. You and me. And maybe you could cut the self-preservation crap because I really don’t get that anyway. And it would get our friends off our backs, you know? I think it’s all the sneaking around getting along that’s confusing them. And really, you’re not bad company.”

“You’re babbling, Potter,” Draco said.

“Sorry.”

“I suppose McGonagall would be please what with the inter-house unity and all.”

“She really would,” Potter said. “So what do you say?”

“I suppose I could live with it,” Draco answered.

Potter chuckled, which sent butterflies running mad in Draco’s stomach. Fuck self-preservation!

“Drray-co,” Potter said slowly, as if tasting the word.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.

“I think most friends call each other by their given names.”

“Oh. Okay. Harry.” That was going to take some getting used to.

“Do you want to go up again or do you need a bit more time? Draco.” Pot- Harry asked.

“We can go up,” Draco said. “They’re probably eager to see if we return with more bruises and in that case who won.”

P- Harry laughed. “Yes. Besides, I’m freezing.”

“Huh,” Draco said. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Well you wouldn’t, seeing as you’re the one who stole my body heat.”

“You offered it willingly,” Draco said. “Who am I to argue with that?”

“True,” Harry said.

They walked in amicable silence towards the 7th year common room. At some point, Draco noticed Harry mumbling under his breath: “Dray-co, Dray-co, Dray-co, Dray-co” in time with their steps.

“What on earth are you doing?” Draco asked.

“I’m getting used to your name,” Harry explained as if it were obvious.

“Well stop it, you sound ridiculous.” He really did.

Harry stopped his chanting but Draco could sense he was doing it in his head.

When they stepped through the portrait hole all talk ceased and once again all eyes were on the two of them.

“We made up,” Harry said.

“Good,” Brown answered. “Did you apologise?”

“Of course he did you idiot,” Draco answered Brown’s question and Brown huffed and put on a pout.

“I think Malfoy deserves a public apology,” Smith said. The suggestion was seconded by several other students.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You are kidding me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Draco said, although it _would_ be interesting to see what the Gryffindor would come up with.

“I think you have to, Harry,” the Weaselette said. “You were out of line.”

One of Harry’s eyebrows rose so far up his forehead Draco thought it might disappear. Very impressive.

Harry didn’t answer but turned to face Draco.

“Okay then, let’s have it,” Draco said with a smirk and crossed his arms.

“Don’t push it,” Harry said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco said, nearly succeeding in wiping off his smirk.

Harry cleared his throat. The silence was so thick one could cut it with a knife. “Um…”

“Get on with it, Harry. You really need to learn that that sort of behaviour has consequences,” the Weaselette said. She appeared to be trying to look serious but Draco was sure he saw amusement in her face. How Harry put up with her was beyond him.

Harry glared at her. Then at Draco. Then he shrugged. “Fine.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “If you’re that uncomfortable with public speaking you don’t have to do it. I will take a written one.”

“No no, it’s fine. Ginny’s going to let me fuck her in the arse afterwards. Aren’t you, Ginny? You know, since I should be rewarded for my efforts.” Potter looked at her. She smiled at him. A rather forced smile, Draco thought. It made her look constipated. She also nodded, however.

Satisfied that he had an agreement with his girlfriend, Potter turned to face Draco again. “Draco, I am very, very sorry that I said all those things. I didn’t really mean any of it. Except the part about your father. And I won’t take that back.”

“No need,” Draco hurriedly said.

“I will never ever say anything mean about your mother,” he continued. “Or you. Again,” he added quietly and Draco recalled their fights in Potions and the common room a little less than a month ago where Harry had, in fact said things about him quite similar to that. “And I meant everything I said on the bench.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, feeling just a teensy bit guilty that Harry was being forced to apologise for something he hadn’t said at all and would probably never dream of saying. On the other hand, the part of him that was Draco Malfoy couldn’t help enjoying the situation. Just a little bit.

“What did you say on the bench?” Brown asked curiously.

“None of your business, Brown,” Draco snapped and Brown pouted.

“Right,” Harry said. “So, I think I’ll retreat for the evening. Ginny, do you prefer the dorm or somewhere else?”

“The dorm will do just fine.”

“All right then,” Harry said. “We will retreat to the dorm.”

“Me too,” Draco said, causing a snicker from Blaise and several others. “Retreat for the evening I mean. To the dorm. My own dorm. The Slytherin dorm.”

“And where should we look for you if we need you?” Panty asked sweetly, causing several snickers from the other 7th years. Draco flipped her.

“Good night, Draco,” Harry said.

“Good night, Harry.”

Draco crossed the room to go to the Slytherin dorm, vaguely registering the looks of surprise from the other students at the use of their given names.

 

Blaise joined him in the dorm not long after. Theo was already asleep, as always, and Vince and Greg were still in the common room. As Draco was undressing, getting ready for bed, he heard Blaise gasp.

“Draco, what in the name of Salazar happened to your back? You look like you’ve been mauled.”

Oh. Right. The back-scratching. “Oh, um, things got a little carried away in the cupboard,” Draco explained. “When we were fighting,” he quickly added at the sight of Blaise’s raised eyebrows.

Blaise smirked. “Sure, Draco. Whatever you say.” After a while he continued: “Are you okay now? I mean, after Potter assured you that what was said about you and your mother wasn’t true.”

“I’m fine,” Draco said as he crawled under the covers. “We decided to be friends.”

“Ah,” Blaise said. “Hence the ‘Harry’.”

“Exactly,” Draco said. He was asleep before he heard Blaise’s answer.


	9. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco sees something that needs investigating

That weekend was Hogsmeade weekend and Harry was going with Ron and Hermione as per usual.

At Honeydukes they stocked up on chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott’s, liquorice wands and what have you. After Honeydukes they split ways and Hermione went to explore the Tomes and Scrolls bookshop and get new quills at Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop while Ron and Harry visited Spintwitches to look at the newest version of the Firebolt and stock up on broom maintenance supplies.

At noon they met up with Hermione and headed for The Three Broomsticks where they were to meet Ginny for lunch. Ginny wasn’t there when the trio arrived so they ordered a butterbeer while waiting. After waiting for nearly half an hour Ron’s stomach was rumbling furiously.

“Let’s just order something,” Harry said and Ron looked at him with thankful eyes.

“Are you sure, Harry?” Hermione asked, earning a glare from Ron which she pointedly ignored.

Harry looked hopefully towards the door as it opened. It wasn’t Ginny. “Yes, I’m sure. There’s no reason we should starve ourselves just because she can’t keep an appointment.”

So they ordered.

Every time the door opened Harry looked up. “What time is it now?” he asked.

Hermione checked her watch. “12.40.”

“She’s forty minutes late,” Harry stated. He was feeling frustrated and annoyed. “How can someone be forty minutes late? That’s nearly three quarters of an hour. I mean, I’m her boyfriend; she should be on time. Or ten minutes late. Not forty. If you two were dating this might well be considered a double date. Who shows up forty minutes late for a double date? Or any date?” Harry didn’t notice his friends’ blush.

Ron looked at him with concern. “Is everything okay between you two?”

“No, Ron,” Harry answered. “Everything is not okay, in case it had escaped your notice. But I think we’re working on it.”

“All right.” Ron looked as though he badly wanted to say something but was trying to hold back.

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Spit it out, Ron.”

“Does it have to do with last night?” Ron asked.

“Last night? What happened last night?” Harry was unsure as to what Ron was referring. A lot of things had happened last night.

“You know, when she and Pansy were…” Ron trailed off. Discussing his sister’s sex life was making him extremely uncomfortable.

“What Ron means to say is,” Hermione interjected, “is it old trouble bothering the two of you or has certain events last night added to the tension?”

“What certain events?” Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. “Sometimes I think you like to play dense just to exert me so I won’t bother you,” she said. “There were several things: Firstly, she and Parkinson went in the cupboard and quite obviously did… I don’t know what they did, but _something_ ; then you enter the cupboard with Malfoy who has, let’s face it, been a more or less active participant in some of your issues; then you fake a fight in the cupboard, though, lucky for you. I’m not sure she caught on to that one; then she scolds you for being mean; then you go after Malfoy instead of letting Zabini or Parkinson or another lackey do it; then you come back and she makes you give a public apology for something you very obviously didn’t say. And you do it. I’d say a few things to cause notice in an already strained relationship happened last night.”

“Woah,” Ron interrupted before Harry could answer. “What do you mean they faked a fight? It looked pretty real to me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s because you mostly looked at their appearance. You didn’t _really_ listen to what they said. Granted, Malfoy may have rubbed it in Harry’s face that his parents are dead as he has before, but there is no way Harry would stoop so low as to involve Malfoy’s mother in an argument – Not after everything that has happened. And the most obvious thing which I am surprised not more people caught on to: Harry would _never_ use ‘a disgrace to the Malfoy name’ as an insult. Honestly Ron. Malfoy was obviously talking about himself.”

“Could we keep it low,” Harry asked even though they were sitting in a corner booth and in relative privacy, not wanting anybody to listen in.

“I don’t get it,” Ron admitted.

“Look,” Harry said. “He’s feeling really guilty about making his mother choose between him and his father and then just taking her away from everything she has ever known and putting her in a safe house all by herself while he goes off to school.”

“Why would he feel guilty about that?” Ron asked. “His father is an evil death eater who killed Dumbledore.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Try to imagine this, Ron: You are brought up thinking that you are on the good side. That the things you do and think are the right ones and justifiable.”

“They are,” Ron interjected.

“Be quiet, Ron, and listen. You are brought up thinking those things. One day, your father does something that makes you think that maybe the things you were always brought up to believe weren’t the truth. You realise your father is a dangerous man and also a danger to your mother. You decide to join the other side and you now have to choose between your parents. It might be relatively easy for _you_ since you know your father is evil, but your mother probably still loves your father. You _know_ he is dangerous, though, so you put her in the position of having to choose between you and her husband; your father. And if she chooses you, she will have to live in solitude for who knows how long while you’re off having fun with your friends.”

Ron was quiet for a while. “But my father isn’t dangerous.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly.

“I think I get your point, though,” he said. “I’d hate to make my mother choose between two people she loved.”

“I don’t think his mother still loved his father,” Harry said.

“Why not?” Hermione asked.

“Draco told me his father let the other death eaters torture her and… do stuff to her.” Harry said quietly. “Please don’t let him know I told you.”

His friends stared at him. Ron’s mouth was wide open and Hermione had covered her mouth with a hand.

“Of course not,” Hermione said after a few moments. “Right, Ronald?”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“What’s with calling him Draco?” Ron asked suddenly.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said and couldn’t help smiling. “We decided to become friends.”

Ron looked sceptical but Hermione smiled. “I think that’s very nice, Harry,” she said.

“You know, I’ve been curious as to how Ginny reacted when I had to go in to the cupboard with Malfoy. And when I went after him,” Harry said. “We didn’t really talk after we went to bed and she didn’t stay the night.” Ron blushed.

“Well,” Hermione said. “She pretended to be fine about it but she looked annoyed when you went in the cupboard. She tried to hide it, though. And I think she was upset when you went after him.”

“Is that why she decided to humiliate me by making me apologise in front of everybody?” Harry asked pensively.

Hermione nodded. “I think it might be.”

“She is one vindictive little bitch sometimes,” Harry said without thinking who was present.

“ _Hey_ ,” Ron said.

“Sorry, Ron. She just acts so immaturely sometimes.”

“I know,” Ron said. “But try to keep the name calling to a minimum, yeah?”

Harry smiled at his friend.

Suddenly Ron frowned and narrowed his eyes. “If you faked the fight, what _did_ happen in the closet? And why would you think you needed to fake a fight?”

Luckily, before Harry had the chance to say anything, their food arrived and they began to eat. Not long after, Harry felt a hand in his hair.

“I see you started without me,” Ginny said with raised eyebrows. “That’s not very polite is it?”

“Yeah, well, we waited for forty minutes before we ordered and then the food took an additional twenty minutes. I hardly think we can be blamed for starting without you,” Harry said, not bothering to hide the annoyance he was sure showed in his voice.

“No need to get miffish,” Ginny said and sat down. “You know, you really need to stop acting like a bloody girl every time something doesn’t go your way.”

Harry, wisely, refrained from answering.

Ginny didn’t seem to notice the significant dampening on the mood her arrival had caused, though it was very clear to Harry that both Hermione and Ron were uncomfortable.

When they had finished eating and waited for Ginny to finish, Harry gave her a peck on the cheek and left with Hermione and Ron. Ginny had tried to get him to go for a quickie in an alley but he had excused himself by not being in the mood. Which he really wasn’t. He didn’t care if it upset her.

After lunch they visited Zonko’s and lastly Gladrags Wizardwear as Hermione was adamant they ‘begin to dress their age’. She had been very insistent on that after having walked in on an orange-clad Ron in the boys’ dorm wearing an orange Chudley Canons t-shirt with images of the entire team zooming around in circles, orange Chudley Canons boxers with golden snitches fluttering their wings, and orange Chudley Canon socks which shouted ‘GOAL’ every ten seconds. Harry had thought it very unfair that he had to suffer just because Ron’s taste in clothes was a bit to the orange side, but Ron had argued that if _he_ had to, _Harry_ had to as well. Hermione had even gone so far as to write the twins to ask for additional funds for a new wardrobe for Ron in the name of ‘reputation by association’, and she had succeeded, much to Ron’s annoyance. They ended up with several new items but Hermione did not succeed in her quest at getting them each an entire new wardrobe.

They concluded their Hogsmeade visit with another visit at The Three Broomsticks where they enjoyed a butterbeer before heading back to the castle, packed with bags of sweets, clothes, Zonko’s items, quidditch supplies, books and quills.

*

Draco went to Hogsmeade with Blaise and Pansy. They were planning on going to Honeydukes, Gladrags Wizardwear, Tomes and Scrolls, Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop and Zonko’s. And of course lunch at The Three Broomsticks. Also, Draco wanted to go to the Herbology shop Dogweed and Deathcap for supplies for his potions home brewing kit. Blaise and Pansy had declined joining him there and were instead going to browse Dominic Maestro’s music shop. They had decided to meet up for a late lunch after Draco had got what he needed at Dogweed and Deathcap.

He took his time picking up the herbs he needed to restock and browsing for new and exciting herbs. He didn’t leave until he felt his stomach rumble. As he exited he spotted a very dishevelled Ginevra Weasley leaving an alley a few fifty feet away. She was smoothing her outfit and her hair and then headed in the other direction. She had most likely had another rendezvous with Potter. No, _Harry_. A shag in a public place like Hogsmeade would be right up her alley. So to speak. When Draco passed the alley, he took a peek to see if he would discover an equally dishevelled Potter straightening himself out, but the alley was empty.

Shrugging it off, Draco went to meet Blaise and Pansy at The Three Broomsticks. He spotted them at the back of the room at a nicely secluded table. As he made his way to the table he spotted Po- Harry, Granger and the Weasel occupying a corner booth. The Weaselette was standing next to Potter, who had half-way finished his meal. Which meant that he had been there at least thirty minutes, counting time for the food to arrive. Which meant that he couldn’t have been in an alley with the Weaselette a mere five or ten minutes ago. Which meant that someone else had dishevelled her clothes.

“ _Draco_.”

Draco turned to look at Pansy. “There’s no need to raise your voice Pansy. I’m well within hearing range.”

“I said your name three times and you didn’t react,” Pansy answered. “Sit down, would you?”

“Really, I didn’t hear”, Draco said as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“No wonder,” Blaise interjected. “You were having another ‘Potter-zone-out’.”

“I was not. What is that anyway?” Draco asked.

“It’s a new thing invented specially for you, darling,” Pansy answered smirking.

“Oh ha ha ha,” Draco answered dryly.

“What were you thinking about anyway?” Pansy asked curiously.

Draco frowned, contemplating whether or not he should tell them. “I saw the Weaselette leaving an alley. She looked newly fucked.”

“Oooh, that’s interesting,” Blaise said. Both he and Pansy leant forwards and put their elbows on the table.

“Should I tell him?” Draco asked.

“Whatever for?” Blaise asked.

“Unless, of course, you’re hoping he would then turn to you for comfort?” Pansy interjected.

Draco glared at Pansy. “Pansy darling, I already told you I’m not interested in him.”

“Yes yes, darling, I know that is what you say. I choose to view things differently.” She smiled at him sweetly.

“As do I,” Blaise added.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You are delusional. Both of you. We have agreed that we are both rather dashing – me more than him, obviously –“

Blaise and Pansy both nodded. “Obviously.”

“– and we agreed that we are attracted to each other’s looks,” Draco continued, “and we decided we should be friends. That is all there is to it. Nothing more.”

“Ah, so that explains the scratches on your back?” Pansy asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes and glared at Blaise, who just smiled at him.

“I… It’s… You’re changing the subject,” Draco complained. “Stop it.”

“Okay,” Blaise said. “Would you tell me if you found out _my_ girlfriend cheated on _me_?”

“No. Because I would assume you already knew. Or cheated as well. Or joined in. But you’re not Potter. Harry,” he corrected himself.

“What about me then?” Pansy asked.

“Pansy, sweetheart, I know you think you’re all sweetness but no-one in their right mind would ever dare cheat on you.”

“Aw, thank you darling,” Pansy cooed.

“Did you even see who it was?” Blaise asked.

“When I looked, no-one was there, so I really couldn’t say,” Draco admitted.

“Well in that case, you definitely shouldn’t tell him,” Pansy said. “You may have decided to become friends and you may even be on first name terms, but he will _not_ thank you for insinuating that his girlfriend is cheating on him. Especially when you have no evidence at all. She may not even have been cheating. For all you know she could have fallen in her own shoelaces and that’s how she got ruffled.”

“Right,” Draco said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t say anything. I’ll just keep my eyes open then.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Just don’t start obsessing.”

Draco promised he wouldn’t. He really wasn’t the obsessive type.

The three Slytherins finished their lunch and their shopping for the day and went back to the castle.

Draco decided that although he would not obsess over finding out whether or not the Weaselette was cheating, he might as well keep his eyes open anyway. You know, for the sake of a newly established friendship. The problem was that he had absolutely no clue as to where the Weaselette spent her time when not around Harry. Except the Gryffindor Tower of course, and he had no way of entering that. And also no desire to. He spent a good amount of Sunday searching out the library, the quidditch pitch, various classrooms and bathrooms and hallways and corridors in general. He did see the fault to his plan, which was that the castle was enormous. The only times he absolutely certainly knew where she was, were at mealtimes and she left with Harry by the end of both breakfast and lunch. At lunch Draco had followed them discretely at as much of a distance as possible. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that they ended up at Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Horny bastards. Not really thinking, Draco peeked in the door and was almost immediately discovered by the Weaselette in the mirror. Draco froze. He honestly hadn’t counted on being caught. Not that it was his plan to stay and watch even if he _hadn’t_ been caught, obviously. In hindsight it was stupid of him to think he wouldn’t be noticed as the bathroom held a lot of mirrors and it would be nearly impossible to stay hidden.

“Are you going to join or just stand there watching?” the Weaselette snapped.

That caught Draco off guard and he felt himself heat up immediately. “Um…” he answered helpfully.

“ _Ginny_!” Potter exclaimed outraged. He was standing behind the Weaselette with his trousers down, shirt still on and his hands on her hips. “Draco was just leaving, weren’t you, Draco?” he asked Draco’s reflection.

“Absolutely,” Draco answered. As he turned around he added: “have fun” and then mentally kicked himself for both being caught off guard and not being able to find something more clever to say than “um…”.

At supper Harry left before the Weaselette and Draco was excited that he would finally be able to follow her and discover whatever dark secrets she kept hidden from her poor, ignorant boyfriend. Draco’s excitement was short-lived, however, as he found himself following her to the library where she joined Longbottom who was, apparently, helping her do a Herbology assignment. Honestly, who sucks at Herbology to the extent that they need private tutoring? Only a Weasley. Defeated he made his way back to the common room.

As he entered the common room he found Harry half sitting/half lying in the large sofa closest to the fireplace, resting his head on the armrest. Harry looked up as Draco sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“Hello,” he greeted Draco.

“Hello,” Draco greeted back.

“That’s what, like four times you’ve caught me having sex now?”

“Five,” Draco admitted.

Harry frowned. “Five? I count four: the Hogwarts Express, the alcove before Potions, the Mr. Potter incident and then this one.”

“Yes, well, you probably recall last week with me and Pansy.”

“Yes,” Harry said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“I got there some time before her and I may have overheard something from an adjacent classroom,” Draco admitted.

Harry blushed and cleared his throat. “How long before Pansy would you say you got there?”

“Quite some time, I should say,” Draco said innocently and grinned at the other boy.

“And those things you think you may have heard…?” Harry asked carefully.

Draco’s grin widened and Harry hid his face in his hands. Suddenly Harry snapped his head up again, a slightly horrified look on his face.

“You didn’t…”

“I didn’t look, don’t worry,” Draco said. “I would have been scarred for life.”

“Oh thank Merlin,” Harry said, sounding relieved. “Well, that hardly counts then,” he added. “That was only an audio show.”

“Okay then,” Draco said. “Four times and several audio shows. There was also that time after detention. You were going at it like rabbits then.”

Harry blushed. “It hardly seems fair,” he said. “I’ve only caught you having sex once and wanking once.”

Draco snickered. “Yes, well apparently I’m not as exhibitionistic as you. Plus I don’t have a girlfriend currently.”

“I may, whether I like it or not, have some unfortunate exhibitionistic tendencies, largely brought on by my girlfriend,” Harry said, “but at least I’m not a peeper. Much. But still, it’s totally unfair.”

“Would you like me to make some appointments with Pansy so you can come and look? Or you could let me know when you’re wanking next and I’ll come and take a peak, and we can even it out,” Draco said innocently and cocked his head.

Harry’s jaw dropped and he blushed furiously. “I really hope you’re not serious.”

“Of course I’m not serious, you dimwit.” Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly.

“Why were you there anyway,” Harry asked curiously. “Just now, in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” he added.

“Um…” Draco said. He hadn’t expected Harry to ask that question. “I needed to use the loo, obviously,” he said.

“So you chose Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” Harry asked sceptically.

“When you have to go you have to go.”

“Uh-huh,” Potter said, still looking sceptical.

Wanting to avoid further questions, Draco got up. “Goodnight. Harry,” he said as he headed for his dorm.

*

Harry sat in the sofa wondering when on earth he had become okay with discussing his sex life with Draco Malfoy in such a casual manner. He also sat thinking that the thought of evening out the score should not arouse him the way it had.

*

On Monday, not being the most patient person in the world, Draco was ready to abandon his attempt at catching the Weaselette doing something illicit. He was finding it boring and tedious to try to follow her around when he didn’t even know where he could find her most of the time, except when she was with Harry. Which would defeat the object, which was finding out what she was up to when she _wasn’t_ with him. How Harry had managed to track him down all through 6 th year _and_ not grow tired of it was beyond Draco. It was harder than it looked. He aired those thoughts to Pansy and Blaise at breakfast Monday morning.

“Good,” Blaise said.

“What do you mean ‘good’?”

“I mean it will be harder for you to follow her around. You’re obsessing enough over this as it is.”

“I wouldn’t call this obsessing,” Draco answered.

“What _would_ you call it then?” Pansy asked.

“Concern,” Draco answered matter-of-factly.

“You just keep telling yourself that, darling,” Pansy said.

“Besides, this hasn’t been going on nearly long enough for it to be called obsession,” Draco added.

“Obsessions aren’t necessarily measured in time, darling,” Pansy said. “And this little ‘I-know-the-Weaselette-is-up-to-something-thing’ is just one small obsession in the big and long-lasting obsession called Harry Potter.”

Draco sneered at her.

“You can sneer all you want, darling,” she continued. “I know I’m right and so does Blaise. Don’t you, Blaise?”

“I do.”

Draco chose to ignore them for the rest of the morning.

Throughout their Potions lessons Draco discreetly tried to get Harry to talk about the Weaselette, until Harry looked at him rather suspiciously.

“Why are you so interested in Ginny?” he asked after Draco had asked whether Harry was going to meet up with the Weaselette in the evening and if not if Harry knew where she might be instead.

“I most certainly am not ‘interested’ in her. I was merely asking out of general interest,” Draco answered. Apparently he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had.

Potter kept eyeing him suspiciously, until Draco became annoyed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, I’m not interested in your girlfriend so stop staring at me. Redheads are not my type,” he said loudly, attracting the attention from most of the other students in the classroom.

“I wasn’t staring,” Harry answered.

“You were too.”

“Was not.”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Fine.”

…

“You’re doing it again. Stop it.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Would the both of you _please_ just _shut.Up._ ”

Both Draco and Harry looked behind them to see Hermione standing at her and Ron’s work station, staring at them with a very McGonagall expression.

“Harry,” she continued, “you _are_ staring at Malfoy. Stop it. He is not after your girlfriend. And Malfoy: Stop asking questions about Harry’s girlfriend. You’re bringing the staring on yourself. Got it? Good,” she said without waiting for an answer.

They went back to working on their potion. Draco still caught Harry glancing at him now and again but refrained from commenting on it.

Okay, so maybe the best would be to refrain from asking Harry questions about the Weaselette.

 

After having been teased to no end about his less than poor investigatory skills by Blaise and Pansy at supper Draco decided to just leave it alone. Starting tomorrow. Because Harry had just left the Great Hall before the Weaselette.

“I’ll meet you there in a sec, Neville,” Draco heard the Weaselette shout to Longbottom as she left the Gryffindor table.

Draco felt like a detective as he followed her out of the Great Hall towards Gryffindor Tower. He was grateful for all the alcoves and gargoyles and suits of armour he could duck into or hide behind, as the Weaselette looked back several times as if sensing she was being followed. No, not followed. Per se. It was as if she sensed she was being held under observation.

After a good fifteen minutes she emerged from the portrait hole, carrying a bag, and Draco continued his observations, careful not to be found out. He followed her all the way to the library (making a considerable amount of detours), where she sat down across from Longbottom who was sitting at a table in a secluded corner. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. He had positioned himself behind a couple of bookshelves which effectively hid him from view and figured since he was there he might as well stay and see if she went somewhere suspicious after finishing her studies.

After a while he heard the Weaselette sigh loudly.

“What’s wrong?” he heard Longbottom ask.

“Just, you know, the usual,” the Weaselette answered. She sounded very glum.

Draco carefully removed one of the books in the shelf closest to their table in order to get a clear view of them.

There was silence for a while. The Weaselette was sitting with her back to Draco, which gave Draco a clear view of Longbottom. Longbottom was looking at the Weaselette intently without speaking.

She sighed again. “It just feels like he’s smothering me.”

“You hardly spend any time together as it is, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “How is it possible for him to be smothering you?”

“It’s not my fault we don’t spend time very much time together,” she said accusatorily.

“No,” Longbottom answered. “But it’s also not entirely his fault. And I know he’s been trying to talk to you about it.”

“Well he ought to try harder.” She sounded like she was pouting.

“Have you?” Longbottom asked.

“No, I guess I haven’t,” the Weaselette answered. “I just wish he would try harder. It’s like he doesn’t even bother to try.”

“Do you think that might have something to do with the fact that every time he _does_ try you call him a girl and you end up fighting?” Longbottom asked. Draco thought he had a point.

“Ugh, I _know_ ,” the Weaselette answered. She buried her face in her hands, resting her elbows on the table.

“Why do you treat him like that anyway?” Longbottom asked, asking a question Draco had been wondering himself.

“I don’t _know_ ,” the Weaselette sighed. “It’s just… He can be so infuriating with all his goody two shoes behaviour.”

“I assume you’re referring to the fact that he didn’t want to molest Hermione?” Longbottom asked.

“I’d hardly call it molesting,” Ginny said. “I mean, he may be annoying the living daylights out of me sometimes, but he _really_ knows what he’s doing when it comes to any kind of sex.”

Longbottom blushed. “Wow, thank you for that very useful piece of information, Ginny,” Longbottom said.

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. A sarcastic Longbottom; unexpected but refreshing.

“Imagine this, Ginny:” Longbottom continued, “You get a dare that says to do, you know, _that_ to someone. It is someone you love like a sister or a brother. You _know_ with a one hundred percent certainty that that person does _not_ want it to happen and though it might not bother you to an extent that you would refuse to do it, you care enough about the other person to refuse _for_ them.”

“Are you saying he’s in love with Hermione?”

“Ugh, Ginny, you wilfully misunderstand me,” Longbottom said. He was better at taking a stand than Draco would have thought.

“It’s just…”

“What?”

Suddenly the Weaselette’s voice sounded very small. “Why would he do it for her when he wouldn’t do it for me when he was dared to toss off Malfoy?”

“Oh…” Longbottom said and then tentatively continued. “Ginny, is this about you being jealous of him doing something for Hermione and not you or is this about you being jealous of Malfoy?”

Wait, what?

“I guess it’s a little bit of both,” she answered. “I mean, Hermione didn’t even ask him to refuse and he did it anyway even though I asked him not to. And then the week after I asked him to and he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t even consider it.”

“Ginny, having experienced the utter agony of having my arse covered in boils – and might I add; they’re not just _on_ the arse – I can fully understand him. I’m not saying that it’s entirely fair to you and I think he _could_ have done a better job at trying to explain it to you, but think of it this way: He did it for Hermione because he loves her like a sister and Hermione clearly didn’t want it. Being who he is he did the noble and chivalrous thing. And I think that with Malfoy it didn’t matter so much because he doesn’t care about him the way he does Hermione. And I know you asked him to but I don’t think he got how much it apparently meant to you. And why. _I_ don’t even understand why it mattered so much to you. You didn’t mind that he had to do it with Hermione.”

The Weaselette didn’t answer immediately. “It’s because he’s not attracted like ‘ _that_ ’ to Hermione.”

“You think he’s attracted to Malfoy?” Longbottom asked.

“You’ve seen how they are when they kiss,” she answered.

“True,” Longbottom agreed.

“And he admitted he’s bi,” she added.

“Oh. But that doesn’t have to mean something is going on.”

“I know,” she said.

She must have made some sort of sympathy-inducing facial expression because Longbottom got up and went to sit next to her, rubbing her back.

“Have you thought about what he thinks about you doing all those things with all those different guys?”

“Not really that much,” she admitted.

“How is that any different from what he did with Malfoy? Except that you did it with a considerably larger amount of people than he did. And extended it to oral sex.”

“I guess it’s not,” the Weaselette answered.

“He has been paranoid about whether something is going on about you and Zabini.”

“Harry’s always paranoid about something,” she answered dryly. After a while she added, “We talked last week and agreed that it’s okay to be attracted to other people as long as we don’t act on it. Except on dares. And that if we decide that we _do_ want to act on it we tell each other first.”

“That sounds like a sound agreement.”

“I guess. I just want him to not be attracted to anyone but me. And I want him to want to turn down dares for me.”

“But it’s okay for you to be attracted to other people? And do whatever dare is thrown your way?”

“I… That’s different.”

“Why? Because it’s you?”

She didn’t seem to register that he had asked her a question. “And I just _know_ that something happened in that cupboard. Other than that ridiculous fight.”

“Well, even if it did,” Longbottom answered. “You obviously did something with Parkinson. And you said so yourself that stuff is supposed to happen in there. And that it didn’t matter because Parkinson’s a girl. How is that different from Harry and Malfoy?”

“Because it just _is_ , okay?” she answered.

“You’re being hypocritical, Ginny, and you know it.”

Draco could practically hear her pout.

“You two suck at communication,” Longbottom stated.

“I guess it’s not our strong suit,” the Weaselette admitted. She looked up at Longbottom. “It’s not like with you,” she said.

Draco literally heard Longbottom swallow. The Weaselette reached up and cupped Longbottom’s cheek. She leaned in. Draco was surprised to find that he was relieved when Longbottom turned his head away from her.

“Ginny, don’t,” he said and carefully removed her hand from his cheek and his hand from her back.

“Why,” she whined. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” he said. “Of course I do, just not…”

“Not that way,” she finished for him.

“No,” he said. “And Harry is my friend. I would never do anything like that to him. And you shouldn’t either. And didn’t you just tell me that you agreed that if you wanted to act on an attraction you would tell each other first?”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“Besides, this –“ he gestured back and forth between them “– isn’t real attraction, Ginny. This is you being upset and needing comfort. I just happen to be the one offering it.”

“You refused a dare for me.”

“No. I didn’t,” he said. “I refused a dare for Harry.”

Draco could imagine the scowl on the Weaselette’s conceited face.

“So, what, you’re attracted to Harry now?”

“You need to stop twisting my words and stop asking stupid questions you already know the answer to. You’re acting like a child, Ginny.”

Draco was somewhat disturbed to find that his respect for Longbottom was rapidly increasing throughout his conversation with the Weaselette. ‘Longbottom’ and ‘respect’ were two words that just didn’t go together in a sentence.

“Why can’t Harry be more like you?” she asked.

“Harry is a loving, caring, brave and loyal to a fault man and he deserves your respect,” Longbottom said. “If you don’t want to be with him, tell him.”

“I do, I _do_ ,” the Weaselette said. “I mean, I’ve been pining over him for six sodding years. He’s just not what I expected I think.”

“Talk to him, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “I think we’ve studied enough for tonight.” He got up and gathered his things. “Do you want to move Thursday’s studying to Wednesday instead? You know, because of the Halloween feast.”

“Let’s do that, yeah,” the Weaselette said, sounding defeated.

As Longbottom hurried away, Draco saw what looked like utter terror and not a little bit of panic painted on his face. The Weaselette kept sitting at the table and Draco quietly grabbed a book from the shelf to take back to the common room in case anyone thought to ask him where he’d been all evening. As he made his way out of the library and headed down the corridor he was just about to turn a corner when the Weaselette stepped out in front of him. To Draco’s annoyance he gave a little yelp of surprise.

“You’ve been following me all evening,” the Weaselette accused. “I thought I’d shaken you off. Apparently I was wrong.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco said. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“So where were you?” she asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was at the library, obviously.” He waved the book in front of her and she snatched it from him.

“Third year charms?” she said sceptically. “You must really suck at charms.”

Draco refrained from answering. He should have looked at the title before he grabbed it.

The Weaselette moved closer to him. “Do you remember my bat bogie hex, Malfoy?” she asked quietly.

“Vividly,” Draco answered with a sneer.

“I don’t care if Harry has suddenly decided that you’re worth becoming friends with, so if you cross me or try to come between us you will get a very nasty reminder.”

Draco tutted. “Making threats doesn’t suit you, Weaselette. You’re not as scary as you would like to be,” he said, even though she actually was quite scary. A whole lot more than her brother.

She scowled at him and walked away.

Draco went to return the book and then proceeded to the common room. As he walked he contemplated what he had overheard. He regretted that he had followed her. He didn’t want to know what she thought about Harry, and he was _never_ going to tell Harry what he had heard. And seen.

He entered the common room and nearly collided with Longbottom who was coming out of the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

“Sorry,” Longbottom said hurriedly.

“No problem,” Draco said. “Good evening Longbottom.” There. That would do as his acknowledgement for Longbottom’s behaviour this evening, even if Longbottom didn’t know he had overheard anything. Draco vaguely registered Longbottom staring after him along with several others that had heard him greet the goofy boy. As he closed the door to his dorm, it took all but three seconds before Pansy entered.

“What the fuck was that about?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked in return.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play stupid.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Pansy,” he said seriously.

Pansy frowned. “Where were you just now?” she asked suspiciously.

When Draco didn’t answer she continued. “You were following the she-Weasel, weren’t you? Of course you were. And it actually paid off this time, didn’t it? Oh Merlin, is she having an affair with Longbottom?”

“No. She’s not.”

“Then what? It’s obviously something to do with the two of them.”

“I told you it’s nothing. Just leave it, Pansy. I never should have followed her in the first place.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll leave it. For now.”

Draco looked at her as if considering something. “Do you want to have sex?”

“Sure. When?”

“Now. Same place as last.”

She smiled at him wickedly. “Is Potter coming?”

To his irritation Draco blushed. “No of course not,” he said.

Pansy pouted. “Well, I guess I’ll have to make do without then.”

“Don’t act like it’s such a hardship.”

As they left the dorm together Draco saw Harry following them with his eyes. Harry raised an eyebrow as they made eye contact and Draco raised one back at him. He definitely saw the corners of Harry’s mouth quirk upwards in a tiny smile.

“Ooh goody,” Pansy said, grinning, as they went out through the portrait hole.

*

Harry saw Draco and Pansy heading for the exit hole together. He had a pretty clear idea of what they were going to do. As he made eye contact with Draco, Harry raised an eyebrow as a silent ‘I know what you’re going to do now’. Draco raised one back at him which, to Harry, had ‘I know you do, and I dare you’ written all over it. He couldn’t help a small smile. He sat for a while having an inner debate about what to do:

‘ _You know you want to_ ,’ his inner voice said.

‘No I don’t. I don’t enjoy watching Draco having sex.’

‘ _Yes you do. Admit it_.’

‘Okay so maybe I do a little bit. But I think mainly it’s the watching part. Oh god, I _am_ a deviant.’

‘ _Yes you are, but you don’t have to admit that to anyone_.’

‘I just admitted it to you.’

‘ _Yes, but being your inner voice that hardly counts_.’

‘I’m not saying I’m going to do it. But hypothetically, what would I use as an excuse to get out of here?’

‘ _Say you forgot something someplace. Or you need to go outside for a bit_.’

‘In late October after ten o’clock in the evening?’

‘ _Fine; you think of something, Mr. Critical_.’

‘I most certainly will not. You’re the one trying to talk me into this. I’m not going to help you.’

‘…’

‘…’

‘ _Come on. Do it_.’

‘It’s wrong. I promised Ginny I wouldn’t act on anything.’

‘ _You’re not. You wouldn’t be joining would you?_ ’

‘No, of course not. But I shouldn’t even be thinking of watching at all.’

‘ _But you would just happen to come across a classroom where a random couple were having sex_.’

‘If that were the case I should just walk on by and not look.’

‘ _She would look_.’

‘She would, wouldn’t she?’

‘ _Definitely. So why shouldn’t you?_ ’

He needed a walk anyway.

Harry got up and made for the exit hole, trying to be as discreet as possible.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“I need a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want company?”

“No, but thanks for offering.”

“Having a little evening rendezvous, Harry?” Seamus asked and winked.

“Um… Yeah, something like that,” Harry said.

“Have fun then,” Dean answered, grinning.

Ron blushed and didn’t say anything. As he passed the chair where Hermione was sitting with her knitting, she made eye contact with him and shook her head slightly. Her lips were pressed so tightly together they were almost white. She looked highly disapproving and he got the distinct feeling that she knew _exactly_ what sort of ‘rendezvous’ he had. And that she _really_ disapproved. He hoped his blush wasn’t too visible as he smiled at her and tried to look as innocent as possible. Judging by the look of her face, he failed miserably.

“I’m assuming you’ll be back before curfew,” she said curtly.

“Of course,” Harry said. He had a feeling she would not hesitate to give him a detention if he wasn’t back by the eleven o’clock curfew.

She didn’t answer but went back to concentrating on her knitting.

Granted, Harry didn’t know where Draco and Parkinson were planning on going but interpreting Draco’s raised eyebrow he assumed they were going to be in the same classroom as last time. Unless he had completely misinterpreted it. Which would be mortifying if Draco found out. As he reached the third floor he had almost talked himself into going back to the common room when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of sex from the same classroom as he had last caught them having sex in. He stood for a while outside the slightly open door, trying to will himself to not look. ‘Ginny would have done it’ he argued with himself to justify it when he carefully opened the door and took in the sight before him.

Draco was standing in front of a desk with his trousers down around his ankles and Parkinson sitting in front of him. Draco’s hands were in Parkinson’s hair and he was thrusting into her mouth. Unlike Ginny, it looked like Parkinson knew what she was doing and Harry wondered if the girl had no gag reflex as Draco was clearly thrusting all the way in. Harry positioned himself as he had last time, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. After some time Draco opened his eyes, and when he saw Harry, smirked at him, as much as was possible in his current state of ecstasy. Harry raised an eyebrow as a silent greeting. Shortly after, Draco’s eyes fluttered shut again. His mouth was slightly open and his hair deliciously tousled. He had set a rhythm where he thrust in half way four times and then to the root six times, then pulled out to let Parkinson catch her breath while working him with her hand and then start over. Harry thought it was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen and he quickly found himself growing hard. Every once in a while Draco would open his eyes and make eye contact with Harry until his eyes fluttered shut again on their own accord. Eventually his thrusting became more erratic until his mouth opened, his eyes shut tight and he held Parkinson’s head firmly in place, burying himself to the root and shooting his load directly down her throat. When he was done he eased his grip on her head and she coughed and took a couple of deep breaths. Harry thought about moving away but for some reason decided against it. He had a feeling Parkinson wouldn’t settle with not being pleasured as well.

“Are you alright, Pans?” Draco asked softly.

“You know I like it rough, darling,” she croaked and rested her head against his thigh.

“I do,” he said fondly.

“Can you go again?” she asked.

“I’m a teenage boy and I haven’t wanked in ages,” Draco answered. “Of course I can go again.”

“Excellent. How do you want me?”

“On the desk. On your back.”

Harry moved back a bit into the hallway. He didn’t feel like being caught by Parkinson.

When he heard a small moan from Parkinson Harry thought it safe to move back to lean on the doorframe. He found Draco and Parkinson in roughly the same position Draco had found him and Ginny in a couple of weeks earlier. Parkinson was on her back on the desk and Draco was on top of her, facing Harry. Draco lifted his gaze and, once again, locked eyes with Harry who cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. So did Draco. It seemed as if they were communicating via eyebrow. Harry wasn’t quite sure what was being said as it was a language that left much room for interpretation.

Parkinson had her legs crossed on Draco’s back and he was pounding into her hard. She bucked her hips upwards, meeting his thrusts and moaning. Draco was massaging one of Parkinson’s breasts, twisting her nipple and resting on his other elbow. He bent down, licking and sucking her neck and nibbling at her jaw and earlobe, eliciting moans from her. Draco looked up and his grey eyes locked with Harry’s green. Just then Parkinson arched her back and groaned loudly. Draco followed soon after and then collapsed on top of her. Harry thought it best to get out of there.

He peeked at his watch and saw that he had very few minutes to get back to the common room, so he ran the whole way. When he entered through the portrait hole he saw Hermione standing roughly eight feet away with her arms crossed in front of her chest. There wasn’t the smallest trace of a smile or any of her general sympathy to be seen in her face. This did nothing to ease Harry’s guilty conscience.

“You’re late,” she said loudly.

Harry looked at his watch. “By one minute.”

“Yes. That’s a detention, Harry,” she said coolly, and suddenly the entire common room was quiet.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You heard me.”

“ _Hermione_ ,” Ron said from across the room. She didn’t answer.

“You’re not serious,” Harry said. “Honestly; it was one tiny minute.”

“One tiny minute _late_.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry tried.

“And fifty points from Gryffindor.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. The common room – especially the Gryffindors – erupted in loud protests and surprised or angry comments and the occasional snicker. Hermione turned around to face them.

“Is anyone here trying to interfere with my prefect and head girl duties?” she asked quietly but everyone heard her anyway.

The common room quieted down again. There was no doubt as to whether she would give out more detentions.

“Please don’t take any points, Hermione,” Harry pleaded. “I’ll do two detentions if you want, just _please_ don’t take any points.”

She thought for a while. “All right. You will do two detentions.”

At that time Draco and Parkinson entered through the portrait hole. They were obviously surprised at the scene before them. Harry was standing not many steps from them, looking down and very guilty. Hermione was standing in front of him looking extremely cross and the rest of the students were watching them slack-jawed.

Hermione turned to face Draco and Parkinson.

“You’re late, too. That’s one detention each.”

“You can’t give us detention, Granger,” Pansy said. “We’re prefects. We had prefect duties.”

Hermione looked pensive. “Fine,” she said. “Harry gets them.”

“Fine by me,” Pansy said and walked past the three others to join the rest of the students watching the show.

“Hermione, _please_ ,” Harry said.

“That’s not very fair is it, Granger?” Draco asked.

“Hermione that’s four detentions,” Harry pleaded.

“You gave him four detentions for being what, one minute late?” Draco asked incredulously.

“No, I gave him two detentions. Then you wormed your way out of a detention each so I gave them to Harry as well.”

“Merlin, Granger, could you be any more uptight?” Draco asked.

“Five detentions,” she answered.

“Stop it, Granger, just stop it,” Draco said. “I’ll do the detentions.”

“Which ones?”

“Mine and Pansy’s. And the last one, too.”

“Good. That’s detention with Filch for both of you,” she said. “Separately,” she added.

“Why separately?” Harry asked. If they were going to serve detention she could at least let them serve it together. Plus, it was common to serve detention together when they were given at the same time for the same thing.

“If you think I’m going to let you two serve detentions together, you’re even stupider than I thought,” Hermione answered.

“You know, you really should get that stick out of your arse,” Draco snarled at her.

“ _Hey_ ,” Ron shouted from the back of the room. Both Hermione and Draco ignored her.

Hermione moved closer to Harry and Draco who were now standing next to each other. When she spoke it was quietly and her voice shaking with anger but because of the complete silence in the common room, everyone could hear her anyway.

“You are going to serve your detentions and you are going to do it without complaining. And do you know why? Because deep down, you know I’m right. Deep down, you _know_ you deserve to be punished.”

There was a collective intake of breath.

“Oh Merlin, it’s worse than I thought,” Draco said. “You’re Umbridge in disguise, you power hungry little bitch.”

Hermione moved so quickly it had nearly seemed like she apparated to stand in front of Draco. She had her wand out and pointing it under his chin.

“I know curses your father would hesitate to use,” she said as she sneered at Draco. “Don’t. Tempt. Me.”

He sneered right back at her but wisely didn’t answer.

“Please don’t tell Ron,” Harry begged, not taking into consideration that Ron was actually standing in the common room among all the rest of the 7th years.

“I’m standing right here, you know. I’ve seen the whole thing, mate. There’s nothing to tell,” Ron called from the back of the room.

“I’ll leave that entirely up to your own conscience, Harry,” she said. There wasn’t an ounce off sympathy in neither her voice nor her expression. “I am _so_ disappointed in you.” She turned around and walked into the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, slamming the door after her with such force that the wizards and witches in the nearest portraits held on to their frames as they shook.

“Remind me never _ever_ to cross that woman,” Ernie Macmillan said, almost in awe.

“Crazy bitch,” Draco mumbled.

Harry was inclined to agree with him just then, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“Don’t say that. It was my fault. It was me she was angry with.”

Draco didn’t answer. Still nobody spoke.

“Good night, Harry,” Draco said quietly after a while and started walking away.

Harry suddenly felt extremely annoyed. After all, he wouldn’t have been in trouble in the first place if it wasn’t for Draco and his stupid eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” he said and opened the door to the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

“Fuck you, too,” he heard Draco call as he slammed the door shut.

Harry quickly brushed his teeth, put on his pyjamas and crawled into bed. He closed the curtains and charmed them to stay shut. Shortly after he heard the door open and close quietly.

“Harry?” he heard Ron say quietly.

He didn’t answer and after a while he heard Ron leave the dorm.

It was maybe half an hour later when he heard his classmates enter the room. He hadn’t been able to sleep but also didn’t feel like company so he kept quiet.

“What on earth was that about?” he heard Dean ask.

“No idea,” Seamus answered. “It was quite the show, though. It would have been fun to watch if it had been someone from another house.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “Do you know what it was about?” Dean addressed someone, most likely Ron.

“No,” Ron answered curtly.

“I refuse to believe that the entire reason was that he was late,” Seamus said. “I mean, honestly. One lousy minute.”

“And what was with that whole Umbridge attitude?” Dean asked.

“That was a mean thing of Malfoy to say,” Ron said. “That really hurt her.”

“It was true, though,” Seamus said.

Harry agreed with Seamus and Dean. The only thing she had needed to add was ‘ _examples must be made’_ and a little ‘ _hem hem’_ and it would have been a complete Umbridge imitation.

“Still,” Ron said. “Hermione didn’t deserve that.”

“Harry also didn’t deserve two detentions,” Dean argued. “Or even one for that matter. And what’s with trying to take fifty points. That’s extreme.”

“She must have been angry with him beforehand,” Seamus said. “Do you know if she was, Ron?”

“I don’t think so,” Ron answered. “It’s always been me and Hermione or me and Harry that have fallen out. I can’t recall the two of them ever having been in a real fight before.”

“Well, it was only last week when he didn’t speak to her for an entire day,” Dean said.

“But he also didn’t speak to me then,” Ron said. “It’s never been just the two of them.”

“And what was that with Malfoy?” Dean continued. “You’d think he would have revelled in the opportunity of pinning a detention on someone else.”

Seamus said what Harry imagined they must all be thinking. “Do you think there’s something going on between them?”

“No,” Ron said firmly. “He’s dating my sister as you recall.”

“Yes, but it’s obvious that they’ve been having problems,” Dean said.

Harry was surprised to hear Neville join the conversation. He hadn’t realised that he had entered the room as well. “If they’re having problems don’t you think it would be the more decent thing to let _them_ worry about it instead of gossiping about it behind their backs?” he asked. “Unless, of course, which I highly doubt, you have some useful advice to give them – you know, to their face.”

Harry was surprised to hear the harshness in Neville’s voice but grateful all the same.

“What’s with you tonight anyway, Neville?” Ron asked. “You’ve been acting strange all evening.”

“I guess I must be tired,” Neville answered. “Good night.”

That put an end to their conversation and Harry went back to staring up at the canopy, debating whether he should tell Ginny or not and decided against it. He also debated whether or not to talk to Hermione and decided that he definitely should but that it would probably be best to let her take the lead.

Eventually sleep found him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny wants to try something new, to Harry's horror.

The next day Draco was met by Granger in the common room before breakfast. It was early and they were the only two students there. She eyed him coolly.

“You will serve detention the next three Tuesdays including tonight. Be at Filch’s office at eight.”

“What is your problem, Granger?” Draco asked angrily.

“My problem?” she said. “My problem is that I know Harry very well and I know that he is very impulsive and tends to act on a whim. And even though you haven’t been friends for the past six years, you know it too. So when you go all ‘wiggle-wiggle’ with your eyebrows Harry, having impulse control issues, will wiggle back even if it’s against his better judgement, only because it’s something that for some reason makes him feel good.”

“I don’t know what sort of wiggling of eyebrows you think you know anything about but I’m sure that your overloaded brain somehow managed to misinterpret something,” Draco said.

“Don’t take me for stupid. Or ignorant. Or unobservant. I am neither of those things.”

Draco cocked his head and didn’t answer.

Granger’s expression changed into something softer. “Malfoy are you trying to break them up?”

“No. I’m not,” he answered.

“Then stop messing with his head,” she said softly.

“He is easily messed with,” Draco said.

“He is. And he’s my friend. And so is Ginny. So please just, lay off whatever little kink it is you two have going on.”

Draco didn’t answer her and made for the portrait hole. Before he exited he turned around to face Granger who was still watching him. “Not that it’s any of my business,” he said, “but I think you need to keep an eye on the W… the female Weasley.”

Granger frowned and Draco turned around again to leave the common room.

“I’m sorry I threatened you,” she said.

“I’m sorry I called you Umbridge,” Draco answered. He wasn’t really and also wasn’t one for apologies in general, but he figured it was best to be in Granger’s good books. Or if not her good books then at least not on whatever blacklist she probably had. He left the common room before he heard her answer.

At lunchtime Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table between Vince and Greg, making pleasant small talk with Blaise and Pansy who were sitting across from him, when he noticed Granger making her way through the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table. All conversation at his end of the table stopped as Granger stopped next to Draco’s seat. He took a second to compose himself before he looked up at her with polite indifference.

“Do you need something, Granger?” he asked. “Or are you having trouble locating your own table?”

“I would be grateful if you would join me for a walk outside,” she said.

The other Slytherins nearby stared at her.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Granger?” he asked, causing snickers from his fellow Slytherins.

“No of course not,” she said, blushing.

“Then what?” he asked. “A quickie? Because as much as I enjoy outdoor sex I can think of a considerable amount of people I would rather be doing it with.”

More snickers were heard.

“Just come on, would you?” Granger said exasperatedly. “We need to talk.”

Draco reluctantly got up and followed her out of the Great Hall, leaving behind his bemused classmates. When they had crossed the courtyard and Granger kept walking across the grounds, Draco stopped.

“Enough with the walking, Granger. What do you want?”

She turned to face him and placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know what it is you think you know about Ginny.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know anything.”

“Okay then,” Granger answered. “Why did you feel the need to warn me?”

“I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“No, you don’t,” Granger agreed. “But if you do I’ll remove one of your detentions.”

“My, my, Granger,” Draco said, lifting an eyebrow. “Who would have thought there was a little Slytherin hidden underneath that goody two shoes attitude?”

Granger ignored him but crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you say?”

“How about you remove all the detentions from both me and Harry?”

“No deal,” she said. “I’ll remove one from you each.”

“Two from me and one from Harry,” Draco continued to negotiate. “And we serve together.”

“Pfft,” Granger said. “What you have can’t possibly be that good. Or bad, depending how you look at it.”

“It is,” Draco said.

“I’ll be the judge of that after you tell me,” Granger said. “So, what do you have?”

Draco considered if he should argue that he wanted the deal in writing before he told her so she wouldn’t back out afterwards and leave him with all three detentions after all. Then he reminded himself that she _wasn’t_ a Slytherin and would probably never even consider backing out of an agreement.

“Don’t get angry,” he began, and Granger rolled her eyes.

“Well, this bodes well,” she said.

“I followed the Weas… Ginevra yesterday after supper.”

“You followed her? Why?”

“I thought she was up to something and I wanted to find out what,” Draco said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Merlin, it’s like hearing Harry talk,” she said.

Draco frowned. “Anyway, I followed her to the Gryffindor Tower –“

“Oh no, not the Gryffindor Tower,” Granger interrupted sarcastically, her eyes widening in pretend horror. “What was she _thinking_ going there?”

“Congratulations, Granger, you’re hilarious,” Draco said. “Anyway I followed her to the Gryffindor Tower and waited for her to return. I overheard her after supper telling Longbottom she’d meet him later.”

“Yes, I know,” Granger snapped. “He’s tutoring her in Herbology.”

“Do you think you could do us both a favour and shut up until I’m done talking? If you continue interrupting we’re going to miss class and I am not going to slight my education because you can’t be bothered to listen and not talk for once.”

The thought of being late for class seemed to be enough to shut her up. “Sorry,” she said.

“So I followed her to the library where she met with Longbottom. It didn’t take long for her to begin complaining about Harry; how she thinks he is smothering her, how he is not trying hard enough to get her to talk with him properly, how she thinks he is acting whiny and childish and how she is jealous that he took the boils for you and not for her when he had to… you know, with me. And then she told him they had made a deal to tell each other beforehand if they would like to act on an attraction to another person. Then she talked about how difficult it was to talk to Harry and how easy it was to talk to Longbottom. And then she tried to kiss him.”

Grangers jaw dropped. “ _What_?”

“Not what you expected was it?” Draco asked, somewhat smugly.

“I dare say,” she answered. “How did Neville react?”

“Well, I hate to say it but he was actually quite sensible. He told her she was being hypocritical and that she was acting like a child and that she and Harry needed to work on their communication skills.”

“Yes, yes I know that Neville is sensible and Ginny values his opinions a lot,” Granger said impatiently. “I meant, how did he react to the kiss?”

“He didn’t reciprocate,” Draco said, and Granger let out a sigh of relief. “He was very nice about it. He pulled away and terminated all bodily contact –“

“What bodily contact?” Granger interrupted.

“They were sitting next to each other – well, not at first but Longbottom went over to comfort her – and he was rubbing her back and then she cupped his cheek with her hand and leaned in and that’s when he pulled away,” Draco said, trying not to be annoyed by the interruption.

“Then what happened?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “He pointed out that she had just told him that she and Harry had made a deal to tell each other beforehand if they wanted to act on an attraction. And that she wasn’t really interested in him at all and that he was just the one who happened to be the one consoling her. He also said that if she didn’t want to be with Harry she should tell him. And then he said they’d done enough studying for the night and he hurried away looking rather terrified.”

“Oh my,” Granger said.

“So, the detentions?”

“Yes, of course. One each and you serve together. And I know you have detention with Slughorn this week and next and then I think you should experience one week without detentions so you’ll do it the week after. So that’s Tuesday three weeks.”

“All right,” Draco said. “What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

They started making their way back to the castle.

“Don’t tell Harry,” Draco said.

“Definitely not,” Granger answered. “It wouldn’t do for him to think that you actually _were_ interested in his girlfriend. Even if it wasn’t for the reasons he thought.” A small smile played on her lips.

“The Weaselette – Ginny – she caught me afterwards. Apparently she knew I was following her after supper but she thought she shook me off. I don’t know how much she thinks I heard if any.”

“Oh. Good to know. Perhaps you should work on your detecting skills.”

“Perhaps I should ask Harry. He seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it last year.”

Granger actually let out a small laugh which seemed to surprise her as much as it did Draco. “It wouldn’t do you any good,” she said. “He had unfair advantages.”

Draco didn’t know what she meant and didn’t ask.

“So…” Granger said. “Is this what last night’s whatever-it-was was about?”

Draco had wondered the same thing and he honestly didn’t know exactly what had gone through his head at the moment. “I think this has been enough pleasantries for the day, Granger.”

“All right. Thank you for talking to me.”

Draco didn’t answer that. “Are you… Could you perhaps…” He trailed off.

“Would you like me to let you know if we decide to do something?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco said.

“All right,” Granger said, smiling slightly. “I’ll let you know then.”

At that moment the bell struck one and they had five minutes to get to class. Granger let out a shriek and a horrified ‘oh my goodness’ and took off in a run. Draco followed close at her heels. Despite running they were five minutes late for Charms and were both out of breath and flushing from the exercise. They burst in to the classroom attracting the attention of everybody in there. Draco caught the disturbed look on Weasley’s face and smirked at him smugly.

*

Hermione hadn’t spoken to Harry all day. He had tried to make eye contact with her several times but she pointedly avoided him. Ron had been trying throughout the day to get them both to tell him what was wrong, but obviously Harry couldn’t tell him and he was grateful Hermione hadn’t either.

At supper Harry was trying to get her attention again but she had positioned herself at the same side of the table as him with Dean, Seamus and Ginny between them so he wasn’t able to try to catch her eye and didn’t feel like trying to catch her attention by shouting to her across the table. When Hermione finished her meal she walked up to Harry and stood next to his seat without looking at him.

“You have one detention each. Serving together. Three weeks from now.” She started walking away.

“Thank you,” Harry said.

“Don’t thank me. Thank Malfoy,” she said, still without looking, and walked away.

“What’s with you two anyway, Harry?” Ginny asked.

“I upset her,” Harry answered.

“By being late? I can’t believe she’s that uptight.”

“Don’t call her uptight,” Harry said.

“Okay, Harry,” Ginny said. “I won’t talk badly about your little sweetheart.”

“What?” Harry looked at her, frowning.

“What what?” Ginny said, somehow looking both innocent and annoyed.

“What do you mean-what?” Harry asked.

“Nothing. I’m sorry.” Ginny smiled at him and then looked at him mischievously. “Could I persuade you to join me in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?”

Harry grinned. “Easily.”

He abandoned the rest of his food and hurried off with her. When they got there she pulled him close.

“I would like to fuck now and then run something by you that I hope you’ll be open to,” she said.

Harry was suddenly concerned. “Why not now? Is it something bad?”

“I don’t think so, no, but I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

“Oh god, it’s bad isn’t it.” Harry was suddenly feeling very warm and a little paranoid. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, ruffling it even more. He suddenly had a thought. “Oh my _god_ ,” he said. “You want us to have sex with someone else. Together. Who? Who is it? Oh my god, it’s Zabini isn’t it? _Fuck_!”

Ginny snickered at the sight of him. “Don’t worry Harry, it’s nothing like that.” She grinned. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to trying that sometime.” Harry blanched. “I’m kidding, Harry,” she said, grinning even wider. Harry didn’t believe that she was but didn’t say anything. He would cross that bridge if they got there.

“Okay,” he said. “You had me worried there.”

“You don’t say,” she said, still grinning. “Come on. Just fuck me and I’ll tell you after, yeah?”

He answered her by burying his hand in her hair and pulling her head backwards. Then he attacked her throat. She moaned and hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse, and Harry didn’t waste time reaching for her breast, kneading it and pinching her nipple the way he knew she liked.

“I want you to take me hard and rough,” she said in a husky voice. “Dominate me.”

Harry groaned. He yanked at her blouse so it slid off her shoulders. Before she could shake it off her hands Harry reached behind her and twisted the fabric into a sort of not, keeping Ginny’s arms on her back. She whimpered at the feeling of the restraints. Harry wasn’t certain that that was what she had in mind with ‘hard, rough and dominate’ and he was suddenly concerned that it was too much.

“Is this okay,” Harry asked?

“Yes,” Ginny panted. “More. Please.”

“Let me know if it gets uncomfortable or something.”

“Less talking, more doing,” Ginny said in an airy voice.

Harry groaned as he pushed her backwards and roughly slammed her against a cubicle door, so she stood with her front to Harry, her arms and hands pinned between her back and the door. Ginny whimpered again and spread her legs, giving Harry access. With a wave of his wand Harry had her skirt and pants off in a second. Ginny thrust her pelvis forward to try to get him to touch her. Harry took a couple of steps back and looked at her leaning against the cubicle door, hands tied behind her back, her lips parted slightly and her eyelids heavy. She was looking at Harry through her eyelashes and he could see her chest rise and fall as she panted heavily. Being tied up was obviously doing something for her. Or maybe it was the slamming against the cubicle door.

“What is it that you need?” Harry asked seriously. “Ms. Weasley,” he added as he wasn’t sure she would take it well if he decided to interrupt the ‘game’ with requests for directions.

“I want you to use me, Mr. Potter,” she said. “I want you to talk dirty to me. To call me things. Belittle me.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the name calling and he was definitely uncomfortable with the belittling, but he tried not to let it show. He took a deep breath and realised that he was nervous, although he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had rough sex before. Or semi rough at least. Perhaps it was the thought of whatever ghastly thing she was going to suggest afterwards. He walked over to stand in front of her and ran a finger from her forehead down her nose and dipping into her mouth, down her chin and throat, outlining her collarbone and further down between her breasts and down her stomach. He then took hold of both her shoulders and quickly flipped her around making her face the cubicle door. He felt his nervousness subside considerably. He took a deep breath. Then he used his forearm to pin her tightly in place by placing it firmly across her shoulder blades. Ginny moaned as Harry pressed himself up against her. There was something immensely erotic about being fully dressed while Ginny was completely naked. Harry leaned in and placed open mouthed kisses along her neck making her shiver. He removed his forearm from her shoulder blades and instead placed a hand on her back as he kissed his way down her spine. He increased the pressure of his hand, once again pinning her to the cubicle door, as he kissed and nibbled at both of her buttocks.

“Stay there,” he said. “You’re not allowed to move away from that position until I give you permission.”

“Yes sir.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at being addressed as ‘sir’ but didn’t comment. He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders and slid them down the sides of her body, grazing the side of her breasts on the way. When he reached her hips he held on tight, digging his fingers into them and pulling slightly to make her stick her arse out more. He then let his hands slide over her buttocks and slapped each of them hard, earning another whimper from his girlfriend. He got down on his knees, using a cushioning charm to soften the hard floor. Harry continued kneading Ginny’s buttocks while kissing and nibbling them. He began kissing her upper thighs and nudged at her legs to part them a bit more. Acting on impulse he then stuck out his tongue and licked all the way from her heated pussy to her back-entrance which he carefully probed with his tongue, making Ginny whimper and push backwards to meet his ministrations. Harry slapped her hard on an arse cheek and Ginny moaned.

“Did you not understand when I told you not to move without permission?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she answered.

“I’m sorry what?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry I moved, sir.”

Harry didn’t answer but let his hands caress her arse cheeks gently. He let both his thumbs slide between them and parting them so he again had access to her puckered hole. Once again he let his tongue slide out and carefully licked over the tight hole. It wasn’t disgusting, really – more like a little bit odd, although that could very well just be the thought of what he was actually doing. He pointed his tongue and prodded at the hole and he sucked it and licked it sloppily. It didn’t taste like much. Mostly like any other part of the body. Ginny was moaning and groaning loudly and was obviously struggling not to move.

“Harry, _please_ ,” she whined.

Harry stood up close behind her. “Are you talking without permission, Ms. Weasley?” he asked quietly, his lips grazing her earlobe. He slapped her arse cheek hard again.

“No, I’m sorry Mr. Potter, sir,” she panted. Harry was fleetingly reminded of Dobby when she said that and almost laughed with bemused amusement.

He opened his trousers and pulled them down below his arse along with his boxers. He took hold of his cock and positioned it at her pussy. He thrust it in in one quick movement eliciting a loud moan from Ginny. Harry grabbed hold of her hair and yanked back hard, exposing her throat. At the same time he pushed at her upper back with his forearm as he had done earlier, pinning her chest to the cubicle door.

He licked and sucked at her throat. “Is this what you had in mind when you asked for rough, hard and dominating?”

“Yes, yes Mr. Potter, sir,” she said and once again Harry was reminded of the doting house elf. He supressed an inappropriate giggle.

“And then there was the dirty talking. And belittling,” he said as he started thrusting slowly.

“Yes please, sir,” she said.

“You want me to call you a slut, don’t you?” he asked. Harry figured that if he phrased it like that it wouldn’t really be him calling her a slut but herself doing it.

“Yes.” Ginny was panting and Harry could feel her trembling with desire.

“You want me to call you a whore,” he stated.

“Yes.”

“A filthy, dirty, cheap whore,” he continued. It felt so wrong to say those things.

“Yes.”

Harry let go of her hair and her back and took a firm hold of her hips. He pounded into her fast and hard until he spilled inside her. Aware that she hadn’t come yet and wasn’t able to do anything about it herself due to her hands still being tied on her back, Harry quickly turned her around, got to his knees and sucked her clit into his mouth while flicking it with his tongue. He didn’t have to do it for long before Ginny came with a near-scream. Harry hurriedly reached behind her and untied her hands. She leaned in on the cubicle door and slid to the floor with a dazed smile on her lips.

“That was fucking awesome,” she said and grinned.

“It was certainly something else,” Harry said as he sat down next to her. He wondered if now would be the time to mention that he would rather not do it again. Well, the name calling anyway. The rest was okay. He decided that now was probably not the time.

“You should probably get dressed,” Harry said. “The floor is cold and most likely not the cleanest of places what with being a bathroom and all.”

Ginny grinned. “Yes, daddy.”

Harry snickered. “Don’t call me daddy when you’re completely naked and newly fucked. By me. That’s just disturbing.”

Ginny laughed. “I hadn’t thought about that. Sorry, Harry.” She cast a cleaning charm on both of them and began putting on her clothes.

Suddenly Harry thought of something and his eyes widened. “Oh no, you don’t have a daddy kink, do you? Is that what you’re going to ask me? Oh no no no no no no no. I can’t do that, Ginny, I just can’t.”

Ginny laughed again. “I don’t. Honestly. Relax.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. What was it then?”

Harry was still sitting on the floor and Ginny sat down next to him.

“Okay. I would like you to keep an open mind and not just dismiss it without giving it thought.”

“Okaaay? That sounds… alarming.” Harry frowned.

“I would like to brew some Polyjuice Potion,” Ginny said.

“Polyjuice? Why?”

“You know, to use during sex,” she said smiling.

“Um…” Harry cleared his throat. “Um… well, uh, did you have someone in particular in mind?”

“Snape,” Ginny said without blinking.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You want me to drink essence of Snape and then fuck you?”

“I would love that.” Ginny grinned.

“Um… I… Have you… Is that still a fantasy of yours? Being fucked by Snape?”

Ginny had the decency to blush slightly. “Yeah, I mean, it’s his whole attitude. That bossy I’m-better-than-you-and-you’re-worth-nothing-to-me-attitude. I’m sure you’ll nail that.”

Harry rubbed his nose. “It’s… Do you, um… Who would you be?”

“I would be me,” she said.

“So it would almost literally be you getting fucked by Snape?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I could take the Polyjuice, too, at some point.”

“As who?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Hermione, Lavender, Luna, Pansy. I don’t mind really. Hell, I’ll even do Malfoy if you want. We could also try it so that you polyjuice yourself into a girl and I’ll be a boy.” She smiled eagerly.

Harry was stunned for a few seconds. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked? “Am I missing some sort of punchline in a very bad joke or are you actually serious?”

Ginny looked taken aback. “Out of my mind?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Crazy, off your rocker, bonkers, mad, round the bend, nutty as a fruitcake, barmy, insane – take your pick.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Thank you, Harry, I know what out of one’s mind means. What I don’t know is why it’s such a big deal. So it’s a little roleplaying. It’s interesting. It might spice things up.”

“Spice things up?” Harry asked. “ _Spice things up_?” As if they needed spicing up. “I really don’t think our sex life needs spicing up. And if it did, and if it came to some roleplaying, I can assure you that Snape will be the last person in the world that you will get me to transform myself into. And you’re suggesting stealing hair from one of my classmates to pretend to have sex with her. What you’re suggesting is just completely unethical. Plus I don’t want to have sex with any of them. I am sorry to disappoint you, Ginny, but that is just not going to happen. Any of it.”

Ginny stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you refusing to do this for me?”

Harry got up as well. “Point blank.”

“I can’t believe you just continue to be such a prude time and time again, Harry.”

“Not wanting to fuck my girlfriend, pretending to be Snape is not prudish. It’s common sense.”

“Fine,” she said to Harry’s surprise. He had expected a bigger argument. “Let’s not argue about it now. You just think it over and we’ll talk about it some more some other time.”

Not wanting to enter into a big argument Harry refrained from saying that there was nothing to think about and that it was never ever going to happen. Instead he smiled at her. Ginny moved up close to him and started stroking his arms.

“Do you think you can go again?” she asked. “I would like to get fucked like that from the front as well. And then maybe you could choke me and maybe slap me in the face? You know, rough me up a bit.”

Harry blinked and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “Um… You know, I just remembered I have to finish my Charms essay, so now is not such a good time.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, sounding surprised at Harry’s sudden eagerness to do his homework. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She pecked him on the lips.

“Yeah, see you,” Harry said. He walked out of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and proceeded to walk down the hall at a normal pace. When he was certain Ginny wouldn’t be able to hear it, he broke into a run and ran all the way back to the common room.

As he ran, several thoughts ran through his head: He had spanked Ginny. Had tied her hands behind her back. Called her a slut and a whore. Ginny wanted him to do it again. Wanted him to slap her in the face. Wanted him to choke her. Wanted him to fuck her while polyjuiced as Snape. Wanted to polyjuice herself into one of his classmates. He felt a desperate need to talk to someone. Harry stumbled through the portrait hole as he entered, nearly falling over and attracting the attention of several of the students present there. He wondered if he looked as panicked as he felt. His eyes darted through the common room to find a suitable candidate to talk to but no-one jumped to mind.

“Are you all right?” Draco asked, eyebrows creasing with concern.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Harry answered unconvincingly.

He turned and hurried into his dorm where Ron was going through some books and Dean and Seamus were discussing whether to play exploding snap or chess. As Harry entered they all looked up.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Ron asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Dean said.

“What are you on about?” Ron addressed Dean. “Harry sees ghosts every day.”

“It’s a muggle phrase,” Dean answered.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry looked back and forth between the three, wondering if he could talk to one of them. He looked at Seamus. Seamus was nice but in no way a candidate for such a conversation as he was also a notorious gossip.

Harry shook his head. “No, not you. Definitely not you,” he said without realising he had said it out loud.

He then considered Dean who had, in fact, dated Ginny, and though Harry didn’t like the thought of Ginny having had sex with anybody else before him, Dean might be able to help.

Harry narrowed his eyes as he scrutinised Dean and nodded pensively. “You might do. Perhaps.”

Then Harry looked at Ron and started laughing hysterically at the thought of him asking Ron what to do about the fact that his sister wanted Harry to slap her, have sex with her as Snape and turn Harry into a girl.

He shook his head, still laughing and rubbing his cheeks with his hands. “No, definitely not you, that would just be…”

The three Gryffindors stared at him as though he had gone mad. Harry, not having realised that he had spoken out loud, hurriedly exited the dorm again without shutting the door. He walked determinedly to the armchair Draco was occupying and looked intensely at him.

“You will have to do,” he said to himself and pulled a startled Draco to his feet by the arm and dragged him into the dorm.

When Harry entered the dorm again he pushed Draco onto his bed, ignoring the stares from Ron, Dean and Seamus. He jumped onto the bed and pulled a speechless Draco’s legs up on the bed and closed the drapes, not giving a thought as to what that might look like to an outsider. Harry charmed the curtains to stay shut and cast a silencing spell.

*

“What the fuck, Potter?” Draco said.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. He was beginning to calm down.

“You just abducted me from the common room and forced me onto your bed, which you have now shut tight and silenced. That’s what I mean.”

Harry blinked a couple of times. “Oh, um…”

“And in front of a whole bunch of people I might add,” Draco added. “Your fellow Gryffindors are probably going mad out there. They most likely think you abducted me in here to force yourself on me. Or that I cursed you to do it so I could force myself on you.”

“Oh.” Harry hadn’t thought of it like that. “Well, I needed to talk to someone.”

Draco gestured in the direction of where the other three Gryffindors were most likely still standing. “The Weasel is right out there. Can’t you just talk to him?”

“Oh no, definitely not,” Harry said with a small laugh.

“Okay, so it has to do with sex.” Draco stated.

“Yes.”

“Well, Harry, what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s a long story, really…” Harry answered and Draco took a deep breath through his nose.

“Well then you had better begin then, yes?”

“Oh, um, yes.” Harry fidgeted with his hands and didn’t say anything.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Draco said exasperatedly. He moved up and sat upright against the headboard, spreading his legs. “Sit there,” he said and patted in front of him. “Lean your back against me and slide down a bit and I’ll rub your scalp.”

“What?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

Draco rolled his eyes impatiently. “It’s soothing. I used to do it for my mother. It might also help you to talk if we don’t look each other in the eyes. Just do it and get on with it.”

Harry scooted up and let himself rest against Draco’s chest. He sighed as he felt Draco’s fingers massaging his scalp. It really was very soothing.

“Okay, but first I need you to promise me that you won’t give away any details afterwards.”

Draco hesitated. He would normally never make an agreement like that. “How about this; I won’t relay any specific details but I reserve the right to tease you and make subtle insinuations.”

“Done,” Harry said. “Okay; we were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom just now having sex, and Ginny said she wanted it rough and hard and I should dominate her. And she wanted me to talk dirty to her and call her things. Belittle her as she put it. So I tied her hands behind her back with her blouse and banished her clothes and pinned her against a wall and when she did something or said something without my permission I spanked her.”

Draco’s fingers halted momentarily. He knew Potter was capable of some degree of dominating the she-Weasel – a small degree anyway – but tying up and spanking was unexpected.

“Is that what this is about, Harry?” Draco asked. “Because I would have imagined it would take more for you to fly into a frenzy like that.”

“No, I’m getting there,” Harry said. “So then when I was done rimming her –“

“Wait, what?” Draco asked. His fingers halted again. That was unexpected too.

“Oh, um… I didn’t say anything,” Harry said and Draco snorted. “Anyway, when I fucked her I called her a slut. And a filthy, dirty whore and she loved it.”

“And you didn’t,” Draco said.

“No,” Harry admitted. “Not entirely.”

“You’ve called her naughty before, though.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s an entirely different sort of word. And anyway, you’re not supposed to remember stuff like that,” Harry said and Draco snickered. Harry continued. “After that she asked me if we could make some Polyjuice Potion so I could fuck her as –,“ Harry nearly told Draco who but thought better of it, “– as someone else, and she could polyjuice herself into Hermione of Lavender or Parkinson or you and I could fuck her like that.” Draco’s hands stopped again.

“Me?” Draco asked and once again halted his ministrations to Harry’s scalp.

“Yes, you,” Harry answered. “Now get those fingers moving again, I’m not done.”

Draco resumed the massage and Harry resumed his tale. “Then she suggested that I could polyjuice myself into a girl and she could be a boy and we could fuck each other like that. I asked her if she was out of her mind and she said she thought a little roleplaying might ‘spice things up’.”

Draco snorted. Spice things up indeed.

“Exactly,” Harry said, agreeing with the sound. “Then when I told her it wasn’t going to happen she said I was being prudish and she told me to think about it anyway. And in the end she wanted to have rough sex again, only this time I should take her from the front and she wanted me to slap her in the face and choke her and ‘rough her up’. So I lied and said I needed to finish a Charms essay.”

“Oh,” Draco said. There was a small pause in which neither of them spoke. “I do believe you have rendered me speechless, Harry.”

Harry groaned. “You’re supposed to tell me what to feel, think, say and do.”

“I’m not Granger, Harry,” Draco said. “Would you like me to go get her for you?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Harry said. “Besides, I’m not sure I’m comfortable discussing this with her.”

“Okay then,” Draco said. “What bothered you the most? Can you separate the things?”

Harry let out a small laugh. “You may not _be_ Hermione but you sure sound like her.”

Draco snorted again.

“Well,” Harry began. “I suppose the spanking thing wasn’t too bad. I think I like the power and control. I also liked pulling her hair. I didn’t like that she called me ‘sir’.”

“She called you sir?” Draco snickered.

“Yes. ‘Mr. Potter sir’. And I couldn’t help thinking about Dobby every time she did it.”

“Dobby?” Draco asked. “Harry surely you and Dobby didn’t…”

“Oh my _god_ Draco, _no_ , of course not you freak,” Harry said firmly. “It’s just that Dobby tends to call me Mr. Potter sir. Or Harry Potter sir.”

“I’m sure he would let you do it if you asked,” Draco said casually.

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted. “Ew, that’s just disgusting, Draco.”

Draco snickered. “Anyway, Harry. What else did or didn’t you enjoy?”

“I suppose the idea of Polyjuice Potion isn’t that bad. It’s the thought of who she wants me to be. And the thought of stealing hair from classmates to pretend to have sex with them. It feels like I would be violating whoever the lucky winner would be.”

“Who does she want you to be?” Draco asked.

Harry remained quiet. “Snape,” he said eventually.

Draco laughed. Loud and earnestly, his body shaking with laughter. Harry sat up and turned around to glare at him. Every time Draco’s laughter subsided and Harry seemed to think that he was finally finished, Draco started again. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he laughed, thinking how Harry’s girlfriend wanted to have sex with the nastiest, meanest and scariest professor in the school. Well, to the other students anyway – Draco had no problems with him.

After a while Harry couldn’t help some small involuntary snickers.

“Are you quite done?” Harry asked.

Draco let out a small laugh. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you, Harry. I can’t remember when I last laughed that hard.”

“Well I’m glad to be of service,” Harry said dryly. He lay back again with his back against Draco, took hold of one of Draco’s hands and placed it in his own hair. “You’re not done.”

Draco snorted but resumed the massage.

“And I also don’t feel like being a girl,” Harry said.

“But you wouldn’t mind her being a boy?”

Harry thought for a bit. “No.”

“Huh,” Draco answered.

“And the thought of choking her and slapping her and roughing her up… I just find that repulsing.”

“Okay,” Draco said. “So you are absolutely certain that you don’t want to choke, slap or otherwise hurt her, you want to keep the name calling to a minimum and you don’t want to pretend to be Snape. Or a girl.”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “And I don’t mind the spanking, hair pulling and control. I could also be persuaded into trying Polyjuice Potion at some point. But _not_ as Snape.”

“Excellent,” Draco said. “Now we’ve sorted out what you will and will not do.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “How should I tell her?”

“Now _that_ you can discuss with someone else. I’m sure Granger will help you even though she’s angry with you. She won’t let the Weaselette molest you just because you can’t find the balls to say no.”

They sat in silence for a while. Draco was still rubbing Harry’s scalp for some reason and since Harry seemed to enjoy it, Draco just continued. He found it soothing as well. And as he rubbed, he thought about their conversation and something Harry had said in the beginning.

“What’s it like?” Draco asked eventually.

“What’s what like?”

“You know, rimming,” Draco said.

“Oh, um… It’s not bad. I’ve never had it done to me so I can’t answer for that. Ginny seemed to like it, though. Quite a bit. I think the thought of doing it to someone is hot. I wouldn’t mind having it done to me at some point.”

“Huh,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Harry answered and shifted a bit on the bed, accidentally rubbing his back against Draco’s groin.

Draco flushed as he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. He tried to shift in his seat, which just made it worse.

“Are you getting hard?” Harry asked.

There was really no point in lying. Draco knew his erection was poking into Harry’s back. “Well can you blame me?” he asked. “I mean; all this talk of sex and then you’re rubbing your back against it. It’s your fault.”

“It’s my fault you have an erection?” Harry asked.

Oh. Replaying the sentence Draco could see how that could be misunderstood. “That came out wrong,” he said.

Harry didn’t answer but shifted a little in his seat again. “It’s your fault I have one, too,” he said eventually.

“Oh,” Draco said and cleared his throat. This conversation was taking a disconcerting turn of events. “How so?”

“You know, with all the talk about sex and the massage,” Harry answered. “It’s a bit more sensual than I would have thought.”

“I would like to set straight that a sensual head rub was not my intention,” Draco said, just to clarify.

Harry laughed. “I am happy to hear it. That being said; perhaps you should stop now.”

Draco removed his hands from Harry’s head. Harry stayed where he was. “Under the circumstances perhaps you should move away now, Harry,” Draco said. “This is getting a bit too intimate for my liking.”

Harry chuckled and moved away. They sat across from each other in each their end of the bed with their legs crossed, both uncertain of what to do now.

“Well, thank you for your help,” Harry said. “You are free to go.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “I can’t go out here like this,” he said and gestured to his tenting trousers. “I have to stay here till it dies down.”

“Can’t you just hide it somehow?” Harry asked.

“What, you want me to cut it off and put it in my pocket? Not bloody likely. Dimwit.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I meant take off your sweater and put it in front of there.”

“And what, climb out of your bed with my sweater scrunched up in front of my cock? Come on, Harry, everybody here knows what that means. Even the girls. I have to wait here.”

“Fine,” Harry said reluctantly. His erection was also still visible.

Both of them were shifting in their seats, trying to will away the unwanted erections.

“Or, you know, you could take care of it,” Harry said to Draco’s surprise.

Draco shifted in his seat again. That suggestion had only made it worse. “What would you do? You know, about yours.” Draco asked.

“I would wait,” Harry answered.

“So you want me to have a wank on your bed and then leave so _you_ can have a wank on your bed?”

“Well I certainly don’t want you to be here when I do it. And I don’t _want_ you to have a wank on my bed. It’s merely a helpful suggestion to get you out of here quicker. It was nearly ten when I ‘abducted’ you as you put it. If we don’t get a move on people will start thinking I dragged you in here to literally sleep with you. I don’t see any other way.”

Draco hadn’t thought about it like that. “It hardly seems fair, though. You’ll have seen me wank twice. Well, seen once and heard once. Unless of course you were planning to watch this time – then you would have seen it twice. And I haven’t caught you doing it.”

“No, but you have caught me having sex four times. And several audio shows and I’ve only caught you having sex twice. And no audio shows.”

“It is a bit sick that we’re keeping track like that isn’t it?” Draco asked without it really being a question.

Harry chuckled. “I guess it is a little bit. Now would you just get on with it?”

“Isn’t it against the no cheating rules?” Draco asked.

“Oh, um… No. I’m just helping you get out of a pickle.”

“Public service?” Draco asked.

“Exactly. Now just do it, would you?”

“Are you planning on watching?” Draco asked when Harry didn’t turn away.

“Sorry,” Harry said and turned away. “I wouldn’t mind it,” Draco thought he heard Harry mumble.

Draco unbuttoned his trousers and gasped when he took hold of his cock. He started stroking with slow strokes, once in a while running his palm over the head to use the pre-come as lubrication. He whimpered as he increased the speed and registered that Harry turned to face him again. Draco didn’t tell him to stop watching. He looked up and looked at Harry who was staring intensely at Draco’s crotch and absently rubbing himself outside his trousers. Draco whimpered again at the sight and Harry looked up. They locked eyes. Why did his eyes have to be so intensely green? Draco’s strokes became harder and more erratic and soon he spilled into his hand. He cast a cleaning charm on his trousers and tucked himself back in, refusing to look Harry in the eyes. When he had steadied his breath, he dared a look in Harry’s direction. He was flushed and shifting around and looked decidedly uncomfortable. And his trousers looked uncomfortably tight.

“Okay then, well thanks for the chat, we’d best not tell anybody about this, okay then good night,” Harry said very quickly, spelled the curtains open, pushed Draco out of the bed without warning and shut the curtains tight again.

No question as to what was going to happen in there, Draco thought.

As Draco got up from the floor, rubbing his arse which he had fallen on, he was met with glares and stares ranging from suspicious to surprised to wondering to angry to incredulous from the pyjama clad Weasley, Thomas, Finnigan and Longbottom and the still dressed Granger, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, Greg and Vince. Nobody spoke.

Draco regained his composure and casually dusted some lint off his trousers. “Good evening,” he said to the people present and proceeded out of the door. On his way out he added “he might need you, Granger,” before he withdrew for the evening. He felt their looks on his back all the way to his own dorm.

*

As soon as he had pushed Draco out of his bed and closed the drapes Harry undid his trousers and reached immediately for his cock. It only took a few strokes for him to come. He cleaned himself up and wiped the sweat off his face while he calmed down. He thought Draco was probably right about him needing to talk to Hermione. Harry looked at his watch. It was just past eleven so he figured she might still be in the common room. He opened the drapes to his four poster and stepped out into the dorm, where he was met by the stares of five Gryffindors and five Slytherins.

“Um, hello,” he said. “Hermione, could I persuade you to put our differences aside for a moment and join me in my bed?”

She looked flabbergasted. “Uh… What exactly do you need me for, Harry?” she asked carefully.

He narrowed his eyes, thinking about how to put it. “I need your help with something. A delicate issue.”

“Hey,” Ron said indignantly. “You can take care of your own ‘delicate issues’.”

Harry glared at Ron. “Not that kind of delicate issue, Ron.” And then directed at Hermione: “Please, Hermione, I desperately need your advice.”

Luckily she took pity on him and climbed onto his bed.

“You can go check on your precious leader now and see if he is unharmed.” Harry addressed the Slytherins who were still lingering in the Gryffindor dorm. “As you see I have a new captive.”

When the unusual guests had left the room, Harry turned to face Ron. “Don’t worry. I’ll have her out of here in a minute, unharmed and all.”

“You know you’re acting odd, right?” Ron asked.

“I do,” Harry said and once more closed the drapes and cast a silencing charm. “Look,” he addressed Hermione, “before you say anything – I don’t know what came over me last night and it’s not going to happen again.”

“Too right you are it isn’t,” Hermione said. “Because if it does, I will give you so many detentions with Filch you will have cleaned the entire castle when you’re done. By hand. And there will be no intel good enough to get you out of it next time.”

“Intel? What intel?” Harry asked. “Is that how Malfoy got us out of them? By giving you intel of some sort?”

“Never you mind that. Just tell me what your current problem is.”

“As I said, it’s delicate,” he started and then hesitated.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s see. Since you didn’t ask Ron to talk I’m assuming it has to do with your sex life.” Harry blushed in response. “But why didn’t you just ask one of the others to talk to you? Or me? Why Malfoy?”

“Well,” Harry said. “You are right that it is about my sex life. That is also why I didn’t ask Seamus to talk – it would be all over the common room tomorrow. And Neville, well I know he’s more experienced than one would think but he’s just so innocent. I don’t want to corrupt him. And Dean, well, I didn’t want advice on something that I rather hope never happened between them, even though he might be the best to give it. And you were upset with me. And I was desperate, which left me with only one other choice.”

“Okay, but I will have you know that it was spooky. I mean, you come storming into the common room looking panicked and we could hear you laughing hysterically in the dorm and then you come storming out and pull Malfoy along. Then you drag him onto your bed and close the drapes and set up privacy charms.”

“I can imagine it was some sight,” Harry said.

“It was indeed. So, what’s bothering you?”

Harry sighed. “Ginny wants to try some stuff that I’m not quite certain I want to do. Well, actually I’m a hundred percent positive I don’t want to do it. Ever. There are also some things I would like to do and Draco helped me sort through it all, but he said you’d probably be better at helping me how to tell Ginny I don’t want to do it. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “What do you not want to do?”

Harry blushed. “I don’t want to slap her in the face, I don’t want to choke her, I don’t want to ‘rough her up’, I don’t want to belittle her, I don’t want to polyjuice myself into a rather repulsive person she has an inexplicable fantasy about, I don’t want to polyjuice myself into a girl and I don’t want her to polyjuice herself into you or any other student here for sexual purposes.”

Hermione gawked at him. “She suggested that? All of it?”

“Yeah. And a few more things that I’m okay with. I mean, I liked the spanking and tying her up, but she made me call her horrible degrading things and I hated it.”

“Um, okay…” Hermione trailed off.

“I don’t want to do those things, Hermione. And I need your help to say no. She already called me a prude once tonight and I hate it when she does that.” Harry suddenly thought of something; “Maybe I _am_ a prude and that’s why she keeps saying it. _Am_ I a prude, Hermione?”

Hermione patted his hand. “Definitely not, Harry. Definitely not,” she reassured him.

“But what do I do?”

“Are you certain she was serious?” Hermione asked.

“Quite certain, yeah. She has actually mentioned this other person she fantasises about before. Said I sounded like him.”

“May I ask who it is?” Hermione asked carefully.

“You may but you shall receive no answer,” Harry said and Hermione smiled at him.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. Somehow I don’t think she will take it very well when you refuse her.”

“I had kind of figured that one out myself, thank you,” Harry said dryly. “Do you think I should just do it anyway?”

“ _No_!” Hermione said with certainty. “Never ever do something you know with a hundred percent certainty you don’t want to do.”

“Maybe I could just tell her that it’s okay and I want to do it but then when we’re going to do it Ron flies in the door and attacks me and I swear to never ever do it again?” Harry said eagerly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Although I’m sure Ron would be happy to help, I don’t think that’s the way to go about it. Try avoiding her for the next couple of days and we can both try to think of something.”

“How do I avoid her for the next couple of days?” Harry asked. “The woman is a complete nymphomaniac. And I don’t want to push her into the arms of another man – or _men_ – by avoiding sex with her.”

“Then just stick to high-risk places where it will have to be quick. Alcoves and such. And if she asks about those things, tell her you’re still thinking about it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said, disappointed that Hermione hadn’t been able to provide him with a specific answer to his problems. “I’d better let you out now,” Harry continued. “Ron will be going mad with worry that I’ve done something to you.”

Hermione smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.”

When he opened the drapes he found Ron staring at him with a shocked impression on his face. Seamus was trying to pry off a pair of earmuffs, Neville was blushing fiercely and looking everywhere but at Harry and Dean resembled Ron somewhat, only he had his hands clasped over his mouth.

“What?” Harry asked.

“ _What_ is _it with you and those bloody silencing charms, Harry_?” Ron asked.

Both Harry and Hermione looked and him in shock.

“Okay, so, um, goodnight,” Hermione said helpfully and left the dorm.

“Uh…” Harry said. “So you heard?”

“Absolutely everything,” Ron said.

Harry asked the obvious question: “Why didn’t you leave? Or poke your head in and say something. I was certain I cast a silencing charm.”

“You did,” Ron said. “In reverse somehow. We were perfectly able to hear what you said but you couldn’t hear us no matter how loud we shouted. And you charmed the drapes shut.”

“You could have still left the dorm,” Harry said. “And why is Seamus the only one to think of conjuring earmuffs?”

“Seamus didn’t conjure the earmuffs – Ron did,” Dean informed.

“Yeah,” Ron said. Then he turned his head and shouted in Seamus’ direction: “ _And he’s keeping them on until we’re done talking._ ”

“Smart thinking,” Harry said. “If you were so reluctant to leave the dorm why didn’t you just all conjure earmuffs?”

“I wanted to make sure that Hermione was really okay,” Ron said almost apologetically. “You _were_ acting very erratically, Harry. I was worried. And even though it was extremely unpleasant to overhear I just _had_ to make sure that you were both okay.”

“Okay, Ron. That was very considerate of you,” Harry said. “But what about you two?” He pointed his finger at Dean and Neville.

“I tried to leave -” Neville said, meeting Harry’s eyes for the first time since he emerged from his bed. “- but Parkinson was standing outside the door looking very scary, so I chose the lesser of two evils.”

Harry looked at Dean who just shrugged. “I was just curious. Plus I also didn’t fancy facing Parkinson.”

“Okay, well -” Harry rubbed his nose, “- since you all heard, do you have any suggestions?”

“I’ll be happy to punch you if you need it,” Ron said, and Harry couldn’t help a small laugh.

“Dean? Neville?” Harry looked at them both hopefully.

Dean glanced nervously at Ron. “Well, she doesn’t generally take rejection well. And she also has a hard time taking no for an answer.”

Harry put his hands on his cheeks, feigning shock. “Oh my god, Dean, is that really true? How could I not notice that,” he said sarcastically and glared at Dean. “Neville?” he asked, hopefully.

“Why can’t you just say that you’re not comfortable doing it?” Neville asked. “And if she starts making a fuss tell her she’s being unreasonable. And if she tells you you’re acting like a girl tell her she’s acting like a child and that she needs a reality check if she thinks she can get away with that behaviour in the real world.”

The other three gawked at him. “Would you like to tell her for me?” Harry asked.

“No,” Neville said as he climbed into bed. “She will respect you more if you stand up to her.”

“You are so freakishly sensible it’s almost scary, Neville,” Harry said.

Neville sent him a small smile.

Harry quickly undressed and put on his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. When they were all in bed and the lights out, he suddenly thought of something: “You didn’t hear anything when I was in there with Malfoy, did you?”

“No, why? Did something happen?” Ron asked.

“Absolutely not,” Harry hurriedly assured him – not entirely truthfully. “It’s just – there was quite a lot more detail then.”

“You mean to tell me that you voluntarily gave away intimate details about my sister to the ferret? _That’s worse than Seamus_.”

“He promised not to relay specific details but reserved the right to tease me,” Harry explained.

“You do realise,” Dean said, “that ‘specific details’ doesn’t cover everything, don’t you?”

Harry hadn’t thought of that so he pretended not to hear Dean, and they all bid each other goodnight.

After a couple of minutes Ron said: “Hey Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry answered.

“I’m glad you don’t want to hurt my sister.”

“I just hope she will see it that way, too,” Harry said.

That being the final remark on the matter, Ron graciously removed Seamus’ earmuffs and a muffled ‘finally’ was heard from Seamus.

Once again they bid each other goodnight and Harry fell asleep thinking that he would have to follow Neville’s advice.

Harry spent Wednesday trying to avoid Ginny as much as possible, making sure to take his time at meals so there would only be time for a quickie which he made sure happened in an alcove – as publicly as Harry dared. Afterwards, when Ginny asked him if he had given her suggestions any thought, he took Hermione’s advice and told her he was still thinking about it. To Harry’s relief she seemed satisfied with that. Luckily she was studying with Neville that night as their regular study session was on Halloween. During the Halloween feast Ginny tried to get Harry to take her to his dorm as the entire common room would be empty due to the feast but Harry had anticipated as much and had come up with a plan that he hoped would satisfy her need for adventurous sex for the time being: He had brought his invisibility cloak and suggested they shag in the entrance hall. Naturally Ginny was hooked on the idea so Harry had taken her against a wall in the entrance hall, both of them hidden under his invisibility cloak. They didn’t talk much during the feast as Ginny spent most of the time with her classmates and Harry did the same. Thus, Harry had avoided the inevitable confrontation with her for another day.

On Friday Harry chanced a quickie in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom as they only had ten minutes before class. Ginny told him afterwards that she would not be joining tonight’s game as she was otherwise occupied with studying. Harry was relieved that he wouldn’t have to make up an excuse for not having sex with her that evening and that he had once again been able to dodge the subject. He knew, however, that he would most likely have to confront her the following day.

*

Draco had thought a lot about his conversation with Harry on Tuesday night and the fact that he had had a wank in Harry’s bed and that Harry had watched him. The thoughts of it sent stirrings to his groin and he had had to adjust himself several times during their morning classes. He could understand why Harry didn’t want to cause his girlfriend any harm but some of the things he had mentioned _had_ sounded… appealing. The spanking for instance. And the Polyjuice. Although not as Snape. As much as Draco liked their DADA professor that thought was just plainly off putting. At lunch he had consumed his meal quickly and then had a quick wank in a bathroom cubicle to put his mind at ease and lessen the strain on his trousers. He had chosen to not dwell on the fact that his mind (involuntarily of course) chose to show him pictures of him being spanked by Mr. Potter. Instead he just went with it. After his lunchtime-wank Draco made his way to the Gryffindor table. He had debated with himself whether he should or shouldn’t do it but had figured that he might as well as not. So he approached the table wearing his signature mask of indifference and superiority.

“What do _you_ want?” the Weaselette asked immediately when he reached his destination.

Draco didn’t spare her a look but addressed Granger. “Might I have the questionable pleasure of your company while I take a stroll in the courtyard, Granger?”

“Why?” the Weasel asked.

“None of your business, Weasley,” Draco snapped and directed his attention to Granger who suddenly looked flustered.

“Of course,” she said and finished the rest of her pumpkin juice. She got up and they walked out of the Great Hall, followed by stares from most of the students at the Gryffindor table as well as several students from the other tables.

When they entered the courtyard Granger stopped and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Seriously, Malfoy? A _stroll_?”

He ignored it and kept _strolling_ through the courtyard.

“What do you want?” Granger asked. “Because as much as I enjoy a _stroll_ through the courtyard I don’t think that’s why you really asked me to join you.”

“Your observational skills are impressive, Granger,” Draco answered. “You truly are the brightest witch of our generation.”

Granger snorted.

“They are studying tonight,” Draco said.

Granger, of course, didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. “I thought they studied Mondays and Thursdays.”

“They changed it due to the Halloween feast. I overheard when I…”

“Spied on them?” Granger finished helpfully.

“Yes,” Draco said.

“And now you want to know if I have taken any action on what you told me yesterday.”

“Yes,” Draco admitted.

“I haven’t,” she answered. “I’m guessing you would also like to offer your services to spy on them tonight?”

Draco managed to suppress a blush. “You make it sound so vulgar.”

“That’s because it is,” Granger said bluntly. “And I can’t say that I’m comfortable with the idea of encouraging anybody to spy on my friends. However, other friends are involved in this as well and I think it would be best if we uncover as much as possible before we start making presumptions about anything.”

“Good,” Draco said. “I’ll report back to you then if I discover something of significance.”

“Excellent. And thank you for helping Harry last night. He can have a bit of trouble figuring out his own thoughts.”

“Indeed.”

“So it’s settled then,” Granger said. “Let me know if you find something interesting. Now if that’s all I think I’ll go join the Gryffindors again before they start thinking we’re having some sort of sordid lunchtime affair.”

“Believe me, Granger, if I were to have a sordid affair it wouldn’t be with you.”

“Likewise I can assure you,” she said and turned on her heels.

Having made an arrangement with Granger made him feel even more like an investigator than he had when he had first followed the Weaselette. A part of him felt excited and another part unsettled.

After supper Draco made his way to the library to make sure he was there before the Weaselette and Longbottom. It wouldn’t do to be caught two times in a row. He had brought some homework with him to explain him being in the library in case the Weaselette saw him anyway. He hid between the same shelves as he had on Monday and only hoped that they would choose the same secluded spot. They did. It started out extremely boring with Longbottom explaining obvious things that one should be an imbecil not to already know in 6th year.

“I’m sorry about what happened last time,” the Weaselette suddenly said, stirring Draco’s interest.

“That’s alright,” Longbottom said calmly. They were positioned the same way as last time and Draco could see Longbottom give her a little smile. “How are things anyway?”

The Weaselette sighed. “It’s, you know…”

Longbottom just looked at her without saying anything, encouraging her to elaborate.

“I asked him to expand our sex life,” the Weaselette said, and Longbottom blushed furiously and knocked over his ink bottle.

“Oh. Um… Okay,” he answered.

“Yeah,” the Weaselette said. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I asked him?”

“I don’t see how that is any of my business,” Longbottom said as he tried to get the ink back in the ink bottle and remove the stain from his parchment. He then looked up at her questioningly. “When you expand, you don’t mean with other people, right? Because I’m pretty sure Harry would never agree to that.”

 “Please,” the Weaselette said dryly. “Being the prude he is he would find it offensive if I even looked like I might suggest it.”

“I don’t think it’s prudish not wanting to include other people in one’s… sex life.” Longbottom blushed as he said it. “As a matter of fact I think Harry might be one of the least prudish people I know.” Draco assumed the Weaselette had made some sort of facial expression that suggested scepticism or disagreement as Longbottom continued: “Ginny, everybody in this school who can hear or see know about your preferences for… sex… in public places. Accepting the risk of people walking in on you while you’re at it is not prudish.”

The Weaselette huffed. “So far only fucking Malfoy has walked in on us.”

“You sound disappointed,” Longbottom said.

“No I don’t. I just find it odd that it’s always him.”

“What do you mean always? I thought there was only that time at the Hogwarts Express?”

“No. He also caught us in an alcove in the beginning of term and then in the bathroom a couple of days ago.”

“Oh. Well, that could just be a coincidence, you know.”

“Pfft,” the Weaselette said. “I bet he’s following us. I bet he gets off on seeing Harry fucking me.” (Draco allowed himself to blush as there was no-one there to see it.)

“Ginny, they’re just friends.”

“But don’t you think it’s weird?” she asked. “Why are they friends all of a sudden? And how do they just make friends after Harry was so nasty about his mother?”

“No, Ginny, I don’t,” Longbottom said firmly. “You’re putting too much thought into this whole Harry-Malfoy thing. They are. Just. Friends.”

“Anyway,” the Weaselette continued. “I asked Harry to try some new things and he just denied right then and there. Didn’t even give it any thought at all.”

“Maybe he wasn’t comfortable with the things you asked him,” Longbottom suggested.

The Weaselette sighed again. “Or maybe he’s just fucking boring. At least I got him to promise to think about it.”

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. Whatever he might think about Harry’s sex life, ‘boring’ wasn’t it.

Longbottom gave her a small smile. “Just talk together, would you? And have in mind that you need to _listen_ to what he says. And don’t disregard how he feels about the things you asked about. People aren’t the same, Ginny, and what might seem appealing to you might seem unappealing to others. You have to respect that different people have different feelings about different things. And that your way of seeing things isn’t necessarily the only right way. You tend to forget that sometimes.”

“Quit being so fucking sensible all the time, would you?” the Weaselette said, and Draco secretly agreed.

“And mind your language,” Longbottom continued. “Swearing doesn’t suit you.”

“Harry and Ron swear all the time,” the Weaselette answered.

“Yes,” Longbottom said and opened one of his books.

“Is it because I’m a girl?” she asked mockingly.

“Yes,” he answered and Draco almost couldn’t help a surprised laugh. Who knew Longbottom could be both so old fashioned and so blunt. “A beautiful one – until you open your mouth. Let’s get back to work, okay?” he continued and found the page he was looking for.

“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked, almost as if she didn’t believe him.

He looked up and smiled at her. “Of course, Ginny. And so does Harry.”

The Weaselette didn’t answer but returned to her books, and Draco chose that moment to carefully sneak out from between the shelves and out of the library.

When Draco entered the common room he looked pointedly at Granger who was lounging with a book in front of the fire. Her eyes widened and he shook his head to assure her that nothing major had occurred. She got up and beckoned at Draco to follow her to one of the study desks that weren’t occupied by other students. Draco imagined Granger was trying to be discreet but it was clear the Weasel and several others were following them with their eyes as they walked through the room. Weasley’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Draco with obvious distrust. Draco smirked at the Weasel who glared back at him.

Granger and Draco sat down across from each other at the empty table and Granger cast some privacy charms.

“You have the subtlety of a hippogriff, Granger,” Draco told her. “You might as well have announced out loud that we were going to have a chat.”

“What do you have?” Granger asked. “Nothing bad I hope.”

“No,” Draco said. “She ranted some about Harry again. She thinks he is boring when it comes to sex. And she seems to enjoy referring to him as prudish.”

Granger’s eyebrows rose. “Not exactly the words I would use about Harry,” she said dryly. Draco agreed with her but didn’t say so.

“She very obviously tried to get Longbottom to ask about their sex life and about the things she had asked Harry to do. He wouldn’t, though. He also told her off for being childish and not taking other people’s thoughts and difference of opinions seriously.”

“That man is so freakishly sensible,” Granger said.

“That’s what the Weaselette said. Only she said ‘fucking sensible’. Then he told her off for swearing,” Draco said with a grin.

“Wow,” Granger said, looking surprised.

“He also called her beautiful,” Draco said with a frown. Granger also frowned. “She seemed to like it,” he continued. “But he also said that Harry thought she was beautiful, too.”

“Huh,” Granger said. “Anything else?”

“No. He ended the conversation and they got back to work. Then I left. So, do with the information what you want and let me take no further part in it. I shall retire.” He stood up and made to leave.

Granger snorted. “Cut the act, Malfoy. I know you’re curious. What I don’t understand is why? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“Believe it or not, Granger,” Draco answered. “I actually like Harry. Don’t repeat that to anybody. And I don’t like the Weaselette. You can repeat that to whomever you like.” He turned away and went to his dorm, pondering how on earth it had come to him spying for a Gryffindor.

*

Ron had watched the Hermione-Malfoy conversation closely and he was disturbed. This was the third time in two days that some sort of interaction had occurred between the two. So after Malfoy had left the study desk and retreated to his dorm, Ron went to sit in front of Hermione who had luckily dissolved the privacy charms.

“Enough nonsense, Hermione. What’s going on?”

Hermione shifted in her seat and tried to look as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. Ron, of course, saw right through her.

“It’s complicated,” she told him.

“I bet it is if Malfoy is involved,” Ron agreed. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping together,” he pleaded.

Hermione looked outraged at the suggestion and Ron was relieved. “Then what is it?” he asked. “It’s not fair. Both you and Harry have these little secret meetings with him. With Harry it’s about his sex life and I’m quite glad I wasn’t invited to that meeting, but I’m fairly certain that _your_ meetings with Malfoy are not related to Harry’s sex life. So what is it?”

Hermione blushed and fidgeted with her sleeves.

“Merlin, it _is_ about Harry’s sex life?” Ron was shocked. “All right; as much as I hate to, I am going to have to ask you what the bloody hell is going on.”

Hermione looked around to make sure no-one was watching them and then cast several privacy charms again. “It’s not about Harry’s sex life per se,” she said. “Malfoy made a comment yesterday morning about how we ought to keep an eye on Ginny. Well, he called her the female Weasley.” Hermione waited for Ron to comment. When he didn’t, she continued. “I was curious so at lunchtime I asked him for a walk so I could ask what he meant. He said that he had followed Ginny to the library where –“

“What was he doing following my sister?” Ron interrupted.

“He said that he ‘thought she was up to something and he wanted to find out what’,” Hermione said with a meaningful look.

“Merlin, that’s like hearing Harry talk,” Ron said.

“I know – that’s what I told him. Anyway, he followed her to the library where she was studying with Neville – I know it’s a common occurrence; I told him that –“ Hermione interrupted herself before Ron got the chance. “Then Malfoy said that Ginny had complained to Neville about Harry quite a lot; that she felt Harry was smothering her, he was difficult to talk to, he was childish and he was whiny. Malfoy also said that Ginny said that she was jealous about that time with the boils that Harry did it for me and not for her when she asked him to. Then Neville scolded her and said that they had equal part in the problems and they should work on their communication skills. He also called her a hypocrite and told her she was acting childishly. Then she told Neville that she and Harry had made a deal not to cheat on each other but let each other know if they would like to act on an attraction before anything happened. Apparently Ginny was rather upset – not that Neville had told her off but about the whole Harry thing – because Neville was sitting next to her with his arm around her and rubbing her back. And then Ginny tried to kiss Neville. He pulled back –“ (Ron let out a sigh of relief similar to the one Hermione had let out when Malfoy had first told her) “- and then asked her if she hadn’t just told him that she and Harry had made a deal to tell each other before they did anything and that she wasn’t really attracted to him other than him being the one to console her at the time. Then Neville got up and left.”

“Well it’s obvious that Malfoy was lying,” Ron stated.

“I don’t think he was, Ron,” Hermione said. “He told me to do with the information what I pleased and he hasn’t made an attempt to tell anyone else.”

Ron sat for a few moments contemplating what Hermione had told him. He hoped that Malfoy was lying his arse off but, truthfully, considering Ginny’s recent behaviour and what he had unwillingly overheard last night, Ron found it possible that Malfoy might be telling the truth. “I actually don’t know what to say,” Ron said and shook his head. “Okay, so that explains your little walk yesterday, but what about your ‘stroll’ today? And your conversation just now.”

“Well, I told Malfoy yesterday that I would let him know if we were going to do something with the information he had given me. And today at lunch he told me that he had heard Ginny and Neville reschedule their studying when he was spying on them, because of the feast tomorrow so they would be studying tonight and –“

“- And he wanted to know if you would like him to spy on them tonight,” Ron finished for her.

Hermione blushed, giving away the answer.

“Okay then. I presume that your conversation just now was him relaying what he had found out tonight.”

“It was,” Hermione said. “Do you want to know what it was?”

“Well I sort of have to, don’t I?” Ron asked. “You can’t just tell me that my sister, the girlfriend of my best friend, tried to kiss someone else and then not finish the story.”

“All right. Nobody tried to kiss each other tonight,” Hermione said. “Ginny apparently complained about Harry again and how he was boring when it comes to sex and she called him a prude again.” (Ron blushed) “Malfoy also thought that Ginny was trying to get Neville to ask about her and Harry’s sex life.” (Ron blushed again.) “He didn’t, though. Instead he told her off for not respecting other people’s right to a different opinion than hers. And he told her off for swearing.” Hermione couldn’t help grinning at the last remark.

“He told her off for swearing?” Ron asked.

“Apparently so,” Hermione answered.

“That man has some balls.”

“To put it crudely, yes,” Hermione said.

“And that was it for tonight?” Ron asked.

“Well,” Hermione said and frowned, “he also told her she was beautiful.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. I mean, she _is_ beautiful but still… He assured her that Harry thinks she is beautiful as well, though.”

They sat quietly at the table, both of them contemplating what they were going to do with the information.

“So, what do we do now?” Ron asked.

“I’m not sure that we _can_ do anything,” Hermione answered. “Both Harry and Ginny will go mad if they think we’re meddling to the degree of spying. I think we should just do what Malfoy says and try to keep an eye on things.”

That evening Ron went to bed unsettled. His mind was swarming with thoughts of his sister acting out for some reason, thoughts of Harry’s sex life and the fact that Malfoy was spying on his sister in a very ‘Harry’ manner.

*

To Pansy and Blaise’s annoyance Draco spent most of the Halloween feast observing the Weaselette. Or so they told him. Draco didn’t think he was being that obvious. To both his chagrin and relief nothing shady occurred and the Weaselette more or less behaved herself except from some flirting. But it was a feast so most of the older students there were flirting. He hadn’t heard anything from Granger yet and he figured he probably wouldn’t. After all, what were they supposed to do? They were most likely just going to wait and see. But that shouldn’t stop Draco from investigating further, should the opportunity arise.


	11. Chapter 11

Friday evening Hannah Abbott presented a card game she had bought on the trip to Hogsmeade the previous weekend. The contestants were supposed to divide into pairs and would be presented with a task of any sort by drawing a card from the pile. Both would then have to complete the task. The task could be anything from very down to earth to very racy.

They divided into pairs by throwing a piece of parchment with their name written on it in to a bowl and then draw one. Fate would have it that Harry was partnered up with Draco. Harry was relieved that Ginny wasn’t going to be there that evening as she would have most likely at some point caused a scene about it. They were an uneven number, so Parkinson volunteered to be the one to draw and read the cards aloud. (Harry suspected it had something to do with the fact that she had read some of the cards while Hannah introduced the game.) They decided that Parkinson should draw two cards for each pair and she would read them aloud. She was allowed to read the cards beforehand and decide which card to read out first. With each task they would have to drink a shot of firewhiskey. If someone refused to do the task set, that person would have to drink two shots. The other could still do the task – if possible, depending on the character. If both refused, they would have to drink three shots each.

And so, the game began.

The tasks were indeed very different in character. Susan and Zabini’s first card said to scratch each other’s noses and the other said to cover each other’s torsos in chocolate sauce or another sweet sauce of their choosing and lick it off. Padma went to get some chocolate sauce in the kitchen and the task was completed with a fair amount of blushing on Susan’s side as they had only had two shots of firewhiskey – one per task – at the time. Zabini didn’t seem embarrassed in the least.

Hermione and Smith had to give each other a peck on the cheek, which they did – Hermione rather reluctantly it seemed. Their second task was to rub each other to completion. Hermione flatly refused and made Smith refuse as well by glaring at him with a piercing look. Since the episode Monday evening with the detentions she had gained a reputation as a woman not to be messed with and even Smith seemed to think that it was not worth taking unnecessary risks by insisting.

Greengrass and Hannah had to give each other a love bite and snog for a minute.

Harry wasn’t really nervous when it was his and Draco’s turn – more sort of excited as the tasks were so different and unpredictable. Their first task was to take off their shirts for the duration of the game. Harry chose to take his shot before stripping down. He was still unbuttoning his shirt when he heard Michael Corner exclaim loudly:

“Woah, Malfoy, what’s with the scarring?”

Harry didn’t think much of it until Draco answered. “Fencing accident.”

Harry snapped his head round to look at Draco’s torso where a faint but visible criss-cross scarring – the longest one stretching from just below his collarbone, across his chest and disappearing under his waistband – was showing. Harry couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped his mouth and he almost reached out to touch it but caught himself at it at the last minute. Draco looked at Harry and squirmed uncomfortably.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Never seen a scar before?” Smith said mockingly and Harry felt himself heat up.

“You know Smith,” Draco said sarcastically, “as much as one could let themselves be fooled, considering Harry’s disastrous grooming skills, I’m fairly certain he has at some point or other looked himself in the mirror. You see; he has this scar on his forehead. But I can understand how you could miss it – after all, it isn’t really all that visible and it’s generally a well-kept secret that it’s even there.”

This caused snickers from several of the other students and a scowl from Smith. Harry didn’t react – he was busy overflowing with guilt and shame. He could feel Hermione’s gaze on him.

“Okay then. Moving on,” Parkinson said. “Card number two: ‘Tell your partner something involving him or her that he or she doesn’t already know.’”

Harry looked up and caught Draco’s eyes. “I am so, so sorry,” he said earnestly, trying to put every bit of how sorry he was into the words and hoping Draco could see and hear that he meant it.

“That’s okay,” Draco answered and shrugged. “It’s not as if I didn’t deserve it,” he continued quietly.

“But you didn’t,” Harry said, forgetting that they were in a room full of people. “You didn’t. And I _swear_ , I didn’t know what that curse did.”

“I did deserve it,” Draco insisted. “I tried to curse you.”

“But you wouldn’t have been able to use that curse. Last year, in the Ministry, I tried to do it to your aunt and I couldn’t – not really – she said you have to really mean it.”

“I meant it at the time, though.”

“I don’t think you did,” Harry said. “Or perhaps you did, but not enough. And I should have known that. And I am so, so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Draco gave him a small smile and a knot untied in Harry’s stomach.

“This sounds like an interesting story,” Parvati said expectantly.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Draco said and didn’t elaborate further.

“Okay,” Pansy said. “Draco – your turn now.”

They looked each other in the eyes again. “She doesn’t deserve your,” Draco said.

Harry’s stomach did a flip flop. He couldn’t determine whether it was because he was annoyed with Draco for talking ill of his girlfriend or because he was oddly touched by what Draco said. He didn’t know what to answer so he just looked down. None of the other 7th years spoke. Ron had opened his mouth to defend his little sister but Hermione who was sitting next to him gently put a hand on his knee to stop him. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Draco poured them both another shot even though they had already had the ones that were required of them. Harry gratefully accepted the small glass.

“Enough with the touchy-feely stuff,” Parkinson said and drew two new cards. “Brown and Longbottom; ‘remove your shirts (and bras or other pieces of undergarment) and lick each other’s nipples, thirty seconds per nipple. You may put on your shirts and other pieces when the task has been completed.’”

And the game went on. Parvati and Seamus were told to hold hands for the duration of the game and reveal a sexual fantasy each; Dean and Michael Corner had to give each other a sensual head rub (that made Harry blush and his lips quirk up and he thought he saw a pink tinge on Draco’s cheeks and a small smile as well) and then a hand job which they took care of in the Gryffindor dorm, sparks and all; Padma Patil and Terry boot punched each other in the gut and then went to perform oral sex on each other in the Gryffindor girls’ dorm (the Gryffindor dorms were the only ones entirely empty as all of the Gryffindors were participating in the game, what with the Gryffindor bravery and all); Crabbe and Goyle chose to drink three shots each on both tasks; and Ron and Ernie MacMillan had to snog for a minute and then cuddle for the rest of the game. When they were done kissing Ron’s facial colour matched his hair.

That concluded the circle and they started over with Hermione and Smith snogging and singing a duet; Hannah and Greengrass disappearing into the Gryffindor girls’ dorm to perform oral sex _and_ hand jobs on each other (it was agreed that the two could be combined); and Susan and Zabini scratching each other’s backs and making a sincere (as could be) declaration of love for each other.

And then it was Harry and Draco’s turn again.

“Fuck,” Parkinson said as she read the first card out loud.

“Oh no, is it something horrible?” Harry asked.

“That’s what the card says,” Pansy elaborated: “’Fuck’.”

They could practically hear a collective intake of breath around the circle of students. Naturally they both refused and had to down the obligatory three shots each. Their second card said to touch each other’s inner thigh for one round, which they did.

By the time of their third turn for the evening, both Harry and Draco were tipsy to say the very least and Harry felt a light buzz in his body. They had had a few shots of firewhiskey while the other pairs played, as well as on their own tasks.

“’Describe each other’s appearance in a complimentary way’,” Pansy read aloud. “Potter – you start.”

Harry turned around to sit facing Draco and Draco did the same so they sat across from each other, both with their legs crossed.

“Hmm,” Harry began. “You have really nice skin.” (Ron snorted) “And you’re not so pointy anymore.” (Draco snorted) “I really like your cheekbones.”

“Is that why you keep hitting them?” Draco asked, half teasingly and half curiously.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said pensively. The alcohol was making his mind a tad foggy. “They’re just so – you know… _there_. Also, your hands are slender and you have really long fingers, but not too long, you know?” Harry wriggled his fingers in the air to illustrate. “And you have a nice posture. And your hair looks so soft. Like silk. And it’s so shiny – especially in the moonlight. And your eyes… Your eyes are like deep pools of mercury. Although not all the time. Sometimes they’re almost silver. And other times it’s like looking into a storm.” Harry was leaning in as if studying Draco’s eye colour intensely. “And you give amazing head rubs.” In his seat across the room, Ron asked Hermione quietly when on earth Harry had got a head rub from Malfoy. Harry didn’t hear or notice, though. “And you should laugh more,” he continued, with Draco’s laughing fit on Harry’s bed in mind. “You have a very nice laugh. It sounds like moonlight and bells and rain. And fairies, sort of, you know? And your nose crinkles in an adorable way when you laugh. And you’re funny. And you’re secretly nice.”

“Okay then,” Pansy said, eyebrows raised. “I think that will suffice. Draco; your turn.”

Draco was looking as intensely at Harry as he had been during Harry’s entire rant. “Well, your hair is a mess. But it suits you somehow. It looks very soft and it makes you want to run your fingers through it. And I like your skin as well. It’s tanned. And you’re strong and tall and slim and your muscles are toned, but not too toned. And I really like the way you chuckle sometimes. It’s warm and kind. Like hot chocolate when it’s snowing outside. With marshmallows. And cinnamon. And when you smile you get this cute little dimple right there.” Draco poked Harry’s cheek. “And your lips a really soft – much softer than they look. And your eyes… it’s like looking at emeralds. Only much more intense and much more beautiful than emeralds because your eyes have these little flecks of golden-brown which just deepens the green and it’s completely impossible to look away. And you’re really brave. And kind. And you have a good sense of humour. And a nice arse.”

They were both leaning in and staring intensely at each other, drowning in the ‘deep pools of mercury’ and the ‘golden-brown flecked emeralds’. They were only vaguely aware of the other students around them and not at all aware of the whispers and murmurs that surrounded them after their ‘complimentary description of each other’s appearance’.

Harry licked his lips and his eyes involuntarily darted down to look at Draco’s mouth.

“Well’ personally I would have settled for ‘you’re not half bad looking’,” Pansy said and grinned. “You’re going to like the next card. ’Kiss for two minutes’. Finnigan – set the timer.”

They didn’t even look at her. They just leaned in and locked lips, their eyes fluttering shut as their lips met.

Harry moved his hands up to rest on Draco’s shoulders and the feeling of nude skin on his hands sent electric shivers down his spine which only intensified as Draco placed his hands on Harry’s waist.

The kiss was slow but firm until Harry somehow suddenly found himself crawling over Draco’s crossed legs and straddling him. They both automatically adjusted their pelvis so their growing erections were lined up against each other.

Their torsos pressed against each other, skin against skin, Harry – completely involuntarily, obviously – began grinding against Draco’s groin, creating delicious friction to their hard cocks.

As per usual neither boy could help intensifying the kiss, and it became more vigorous and forceful. Harry threaded a hand through Draco’s hair and savoured the softness. He took hold of his hair and pulled down, baring Draco’s neck and eliciting one of those whimpers that went straight to Harry’s groin. Harry placed open-mouthed kisses on Draco’s jaw, neck and collarbone.

His hand was still buried in Draco’s hair, holding his head firmly in place. His other hand was resting on Draco’s back, squeezing him closer. Both Draco’s hands were on Harry’s back; one on his lower back and one on his upper back, both hands pulling Harry as tight against Draco as possible.

As the two boys worked their way closer and closer to completion Draco moved the hand positioned on Harry’s upper back to his front, grazing Harry’s nipple. Harry let out a small gasp at the feeling, and Draco gave it a small twist.

Suddenly, through his arousal, Harry became aware of a very loud hooting sound and out of nowhere, the thought of Ginny sending a stinging hex in his direction several weeks ago popped in to his head. It was also that same little voice that told him it might be a good time to break the kiss, should they not embarrass themselves even further by coming in their trousers. Harry pulled back; suddenly _very_ aware of what was going on.

Draco blinked several times, looking dazed and somewhat confused. Then, as realisation of the situation struck him, his eyes widened and he blushed fiercely in a very un-Malfoy-like manner.

They looked each other in the eyes for a moment and then almost simultaneously let go of each other, elegantly slipping into a sitting position that hopefully concealed their erections, but most likely fooled no-one.

Harry poured them each the shot they were supposed to drink for the second task. Then he poured another to wash down what had almost happened, and then another for good measure.

“I’m impressed,” Parkinson said. “You managed to tear yourselves away this time. Right, then – next couple.”

Harry didn’t hear what Lavender and Neville were supposed to do. His head was buzzing and he could feel the alcohol pumping through his body. Luckily someone called a halt to the game when each pair had been through three rounds.

Harry got up and mumbled a blurry ‘g’night’ and went straight to bed.

As he was lying in bed, stroking himself, images of Draco and himself in various sexual situations flooded his mind. He half-heartedly tried to steer his mind in the direction of thoughts of Ginny, but to no avail.

In the end he gave up and let his mind go where it wanted.

 

Harry woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth feeling like cotton. His roommates were all still in their beds as well and the room was filled with a joint moaning and groaning. As the events of last night gradually became clearer and he remembered the things he had said to Draco and their following display of… whatever it was, he groaned even louder.

“Hey, Harry?” Ron said with a muffled voice.

“Don’t, Ron. I don’t want to hear it. It is perfectly normal being attracted to other people than the person you’re with and it is also perfectly normal to notice nice things about other people than the ones you usually hang out with. And it is _also_ perfectly normal to enjoy a kiss, even if it is with someone who isn’t your girlfriend – especially if you and your girlfriend have agreed that it’s okay when it’s just a game. And it is _perfectly_ normal for a teenage boy to get aroused while kissing someone else – be it boy or girl. And I would like to point out that even though you tried not to look as if you did, you very much enjoyed the lap dance Greengrass gave you a couple of weeks ago, even though everybody knows you want to date Hermione. So just give it a rest, okay. I’m not in the mood.” Harry’s head pounded even worse than before after his little speech, which he had made not moving an inch from the position he woke up in.

“I was only going to ask if you by any chance have some hangover potions,” Ron said weakly.

“Oh,” was all Harry could think to say. “No, sorry.”

“You got aroused from kissing Malfoy?” Seamus asked.

“Shut up, Seamus,” Harry mumbled. He lifted his arm and grabbed his watch from the side table. “It’s 10.15. We missed breakfast.”

“Don’t talk about food,” Dean whined.

“I could kill for some bacon,” Ron said and Neville seconded it.

“Or some chips,” Seamus suggested. “Nice and fatty and salty. But without the vinegar.”

“And a huge glass of coke,” Harry added.

“What’s coke?” Ron asked.

“Muggle drink that’s good when you’re hung over,” Harry explained. “It has bubbles in it.”

Dean whined again.

Someone knocked on the door and the five boys let out a unanimous groan. It was Hermione, looking surprisingly chipper.

“What do you want?” Dean rasped.

“I came to give you these.” She held out five hangover potions and suddenly had the attention of all boys. Hermione went into the dorm and passed each of them a small phial. She wrinkled her nose and cast a few refreshing spells to clear the air of alcohol fumes.

When Harry had taken his potion and it had kicked in, he asked Hermione from where she had got them.

“Malfoy gave them to me,” she said.

“Draco?” (Harry)

“Malfoy?” (Neville)

“What?” (Ron)

“Do you think it’s poisoned?” (Seamus)

“Wow.” (Dean)

“Yes – Malfoy,” Hermione continued. “He came knocking on the door to the girls’ dorm about an hour ago. Parvati and Lavender were… surprised.” Hermione snickered as she said it. “He gave me one and said to give you lot the rest. I asked him why he would give one to all of you boys when he only gave one to me and not Parvati and Lavender.”

“And what did he say?” Harry asked.

“He said that if he only got one for you, Harry, your ‘unfortunate Gryffindorish behaviour would compel you to try to share it out between the five of you and that that would be a waste of perfectly good potion’.”

“Oh,” Harry answered.

“Well where did _he_ get it?” Ron asked. “Please tell me he didn’t brew it himself. I bet you it’s poisoned if he did.”

“He didn’t brew it himself. And it wouldn’t be poisoned if he did,” Hermione said.

“Then what –“ Harry began.

“Apparently Kreacher says hi,” she answered with a meaningful and questioning look.

Ron sat up straighter. “Kreacher?”

“Creature?” Neville asked. “What Creature?”

Harry’s eyes darted between Ron and Hermione. “It’s a bit of a long story. I’ll tell you later, yeah?”

Both his friends nodded.

“What Creature?” Neville asked again.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Harry said.

 

Having missed breakfast Harry and Ron decided to take a trip to the kitchens to get some food.

“So,” Ron said when they returned to the common, “are we going to talk about that thing now?”

“I suppose we might as well get it over with,” Harry said. “Do you want to find Hermione and find a suitable place for us to talk? I’ll just go and say thank you to Draco for the potions.”

“All right, I’ll let you know where we are,” Ron said. “And tell him thank you from me, too,” he added, almost reluctantly.

“I will,” Harry said and smiled at his friend. He then crossed the common room to where Draco was sitting at one of the desks, surrounded by books and parchment.

*

“Hello there,” Harry said as he sat down across from Draco.

“Hello,” Draco answered, not looking up.

“Thank you for the potions. From Ron, too. And I’m sure from the others as well.”

“You are quite welcome,” Draco said. “It’s not like it was that hard to get.” He smiled, looking embarrassed.

“How did you get him to come here?” Harry asked curiously.

Draco blushed. “Don’t get mad. I’ve been using him to send letters to Mother and vice versa. He popped in today with a letter from her – don’t worry; he always apparates under my bed and has a very soft pop and then waits till I’m alone, so the others haven’t noticed anything. And when he came today I asked if he had access to some hangover potions. He was reluctant to get more than one for you and me, but I convinced him that his master would suffer immensely if he didn’t get the seven I asked for. I think he nicked them from the infirmary. I hope you don’t mind that I used him.”

“Why would I mind?” Harry asked sincerely.

“Because I took advantage of him,” Draco explained.

“No you didn’t. I told you that you could get him to deliver a message to your mother.”

“I figured it was just a onetime offer,” Draco said.

“Oh well, I am giving you permission to use him for delivering letters to and from your mother.”

Draco gave Harry a small smile. “Thank you. Be careful, though – you don’t know if I’m secretly sending instructions to overtake world domination.”

Harry laughed. “I guess I trust you. And in case I’m mistaken, what’s one more Dark Lord when I’m already at it?”

Draco flinched a little but if Harry noticed he didn’t comment. Draco didn’t like it when Harry joked about having to be the one to slay the most dangerous wizard in recent times.

“You said the day you trust a Slytherin would be the day Snape washed his hair,” Draco said with a small smile.

“Heh, I did, didn’t I? I guess his shampoo malfunctioned.”

“You are too trusting for your own good,” Draco said and shook his head.

Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I can’t believe you get him to apparate under your bed.”

“He’s an elf. He’ll do whatever I want him to.”

“I know, but still…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You know when he does that mumbling thing when he thinks you can’t hear him?” Harry nodded. “Well, he has said on several occasions that he is ‘honoured to do the bidding of the magnificent Malfoy boy, descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; a glorious wizard of the purest blood’. He’s almost acting like Dobby is with you. Crazy creature.”

“Just don’t tell Hermione,” Harry grinned. “She’s very attentive to elfish welfare.”

“Who is Auror Shacklebolt?” Draco asked after a few moments silence.

“One of the Aurors,” Harry answered. “Kingsley. He was most likely one of the ones to talk to you when… You know…”

“But which one?” Draco asked. “What does he look like?”

“He’s big, black and bald and has a gold hoop earring. Why?”

“Mother writes about him a lot,” Draco explained. “Apparently he comes around a lot. And he has helped magically expanding the garden and putting weather regulating charms in place so she can be outside during the winter as well. The house is a bit glum to stay in all day. He comes round on his days off, too.” Draco frowned.

“Huh. Well, he is a very nice man, just so you know.”

“He had better be.”

Harry smiled. “I’m glad your mother has some company.”

Draco was as well.

“Are you coming, Harry?” the Weasel half shouted from across the room.

“Just a sec,” Harry shouted back. “I have to talk to Ron and Hermione,” he explained and stood up.

“Granger seemed surprised when I said the potions were from Kreacher,” Draco said as Harry was about to leave. “I thought you would have told them by now what your house is being used for.”

“I didn’t think they needed to know. I haven’t told them much really. I told them that your father mistreated your mother. I hope that’s okay.”

“It is,” Draco said. He was genuinely surprised that Harry hadn’t told Weasley and Granger that he and his mother were the reason the house was occupied. Or told them anything from all the conversations they had had, really. Surprised but not displeased. “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Harry said. “Remember we have detention tonight.”

“How could I forget?” Draco said dryly as he silently cursed Slughorn for giving them detention on a Saturday evening. He waved Harry off. “You just hop along now and go chat with your little friends.”

Harry left the desk and Draco tried to focus on his homework. However, his thoughts kept drifting towards his mother and that Shacklebolt character. He was going to have to ask his mother more about him.

*

Harry sat down on Hermione’s bed along with her and Ron. They charmed the drapes shut and put up silencing charms.

“So,” Hermione said. “What’s going on?”

“Remember how I couldn’t spend time at Grimmauld Place this summer because it’s being used as a safe house?” Hermione and Ron nodded. “Well…” Harry continued.

Hermione caught on immediately. “Malfoy and his mother are staying at your house?”

“You make it sound like I invited them over for the weekend. They are living there because the Order put them there. Well, right now it’s just his mother, obviously.”

“Wow…” Ron said. “That explains how he knows about Kreacher. It doesn’t explain how he got Kreacher to get the hangover potions. Or how he got Kreacher here in the first place.”

So Harry told them how he had learned of Draco and his mother living at Grimmauld Place, how he had summoned Kreacher out of laziness the Friday after their long detention and let Draco send a note back with him to his mother, and that they had used him to communicate once in a while since then.

“I can’t believe you would trust him to deliver notes with Kreacher,” Ron said.

“And _I_ also can’t believe how you could use Kreacher out of mere laziness. _And_ have him act as an owl,” Hermione added. “And I agree with Ron. It’s risky letting someone else deliver notes with Kreacher. Especially considering how he betrayed Sirius. I know I said that Sirius ought to have treated him better, but you’re not much better, Harry.”

“I trust Draco,” Harry said, earning an eye roll from Ron and a small smile from Hermione. “Plus, I gave Kreacher very specific orders. _And_ I’m secret keeper so it’s not like Draco can reveal anything about the house to anybody.”

“You trust too easily, Harry,” Ron stated.

“Draco said that, too. That I didn’t know if he was sending instructions so he could overtake world domination. I trust him – end of story.”

“On a completely unrelated matter;” Hermione said and cocked her head, “when have you ever received a head rub from Malfoy?”

“Yeah, when did he rub your head,” Ron asked indignantly.

“What do you…? Oh, I said that last night, didn’t I?” Harry asked and couldn’t help blushing.

“Among other things, yes,” Hermione said. “So, when have you?”

Sensing no way around it Harry told them. “It was in my bed – you know, the night we talked about those things.”

Both Hermione and Ron blushed and Ron looked decidedly uncomfortable. “How exactly does that warrant a head rub?” Ron demanded.

“I was too flustered and agitated to speak at first, so he offered one to get me to relax. Apparently he used to do it to his mother when his father and the others were… done…” Harry said, dampening the mood considerably.

“He does give amazing massages,” Hermione added dreamily and Ron’s eyes narrowed as he eyed her suspiciously.

“And it worked, too,” Harry said.

“But still, last night –“ Hermione began.

“No, I already told Ron what I had to say about last night and we’re not going to talk about it anymore. Right, Ron?”

“Right,” Ron agreed, albeit hesitantly.

“Right,” Harry said again. “Because we’ve already established that Draco and I find each other attractive. And Ginny and I agreed that it was perfectly okay for us to do things with other people on dares. So there’s nothing to analyse, Hermione. Sorry.”

She looked amused. “I guess there isn’t. You just let me know if you ever need your brain picked.”

“I will. Thank you,” he answered.

“And what about you, Ron,” Hermione asked. “Are you satisfied with Harry’s explanation?”

Ron snorted at Hermione’s attempt to get them to talk about last night. “I’m fine, Hermione. Thank you for your concern. As long as I know my sister isn’t being cheated on.”

“Or cheating,” Harry added.

Ron and Hermione darted nervous glances at each other and Ron squirmed uncomfortably. Luckily, Harry didn’t notice. “Right,” Ron said.

*

Draco and Harry walked together from the Great Hall, discussing what Slughorn would have them do this time.

“As long as it’s not with Hagrid, I don’t care,” Harry said.

“That big oaf probably wouldn’t even hesitate to send us straight into the forest again even though it’s full moon tonight.”

“Don’t call him an oaf,” Harry said firmly. “He’s not an oaf. He just has an unusual affection for dangerous creatures. For all living creatures really. And he’s one of the kindest people I know.”

“Harry,” Draco said, “with your loyalty sentiments and trustfulness it’s a wonder you’re not a Hufflepuff.”

Harry snorted. “If I were a Hufflepuff we wouldn’t have my Gryffindor bravery to swoop in and save your sorry arse from giant spiders and giants and such.”

“Oh ha ha ha,” Draco said.

“Besides, I’m nowhere near hard working enough for Hufflepuff.”

They arrived to the Potions classroom at eight o’clock. Slughorn was already there waiting for them.

“Excellent, excellent,” he boomed as they entered and clasped his hands. “All ready and eager to get started?” he asked. Stupid man. None of them answered. “Good, good,” he continued. “Now, I remember how frightened you were to go outside at full moon on your first detention, Mr. Malfoy –“ Slughorn tapped his nose with his index finger and Draco took a deep breath through his nose, counting to ten. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Harry straining not to laugh. Prick. “- so I have decided that you will be serving detention inside the castle tonight.” Draco tried not to look too relieved. “The Rare Ingredients’ cupboard needs a thorough cleaning. After you do that you can sort the ingredients. And I shall, of course, require your wands. It wouldn’t do to make it too easy for you boys. It is a detention after all,” he chuckled.

They both reluctantly handed over their wands.

“I’ll come check on you once in a while just to make sure you’re not locked in.” Slughorn laughed and patted his voluminous belly.

“Locked in? What do you mean ‘locked in’?” Harry demanded, sounding unusually panicky.

“Not to worry, Harry, dear boy. I’m sure you will be able to comfort Mr. Malfoy if that should happen.” Slughorn slapped Harry on the shoulder and left the classroom.

“Do you think he meant it?” Harry asked. “That we could get locked in the cupboard?”

“Who knows?” Draco asked. “That man is deranged. And besides, you’ll just use your Gryffindor bravery to swoop in and save my arse if we do.”

Harry didn’t seem to find that funny.

As Draco was inexperienced in the arts of cleaning the muggle way he left it to Harry to get the things they needed for the cleaning while Draco cleared the cupboard of jars with ingredients. The cupboard really was in dire need of a cleaning.

Being approximately 5 by 6 feet big it had enough space for them to work in comfortably at the same time and they did so, standing back to back, rubbing the shelves with a sponge.

They had been working in comfortable silence for about a couple of hours – the cupboard was disgustingly dirty – and had made a good head start when the Weaselette suddenly showed up in the classroom. Draco continued to rub the shelves with his back to them. He really wasn’t in the mood for listening to the Weaselette right now.

“Ginny?” Harry said. “Why are you here – is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered. “I just feel like I haven’t seen you all weekend so I was wandering if you had time for a shag.”

“Now?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Ginny, I have detention right now. Just in case you were wondering what I was doing with a bucket of soap water in a cupboard with Draco.”

“I bet there are plenty of other things you would rather be doing with ‘Draco’ in a cupboard,” she answered. Draco could practically hear the quotation marks when she said his name.

“Ginny, are you drunk?” Harry asked.

“What if I am?” the Weaselette said. “Do you think you’re the only ones who can throw a party?”

“No, of course not,” Harry answered. “But we don’t go roaming the halls drunk. You could have run in to any number of people.”

“No I couldn’t,” she said. “It’s after curfew so no-one is out.”

“That’s even worse, Ginny,” Harry said exasperatedly. “Can’t you just go to the common room and I’ll meet you there? If anybody gives you any trouble about it, just go to the dorm to wait for me.”

“I could,” she said. “But I’d much rather fuck you here.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” she purred. “It would be kind of hot, wouldn’t it? You know, fucking me hard on a desk or against the wall when you know he’s right there.”

“You do realise, Littlest Weasley, that even though I have my back to you, I am perfectly capable of hearing you,” Draco said dryly, still standing with his back to them.

The Weaselette didn’t answer and neither did Harry. Draco assumed it was because he was busy staring at his girlfriend – most likely with his mouth open in disbelief.

“Come on, Harry,” she continued. “Mr. Potter. We could even let him watch. Or join. I bet you would love that wouldn’t you?”

“ _Ginny_ , _stop it,_ ” Harry said angrily. ”That is not an option. I will not fuck you while I’m on detention. I’m also not skiving off and leaving the work to Draco. If you can’t wait I suggest you grab a sponge and help getting it done quicker. Or take care of the worst itch yourself. You can even use my bed if you need the excitement.”

Draco was just about to dip his sponge in the water when the cupboard door slammed shut, leaving them in complete darkness.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry hissed. “GINNY! OPEN THE DOOR.”

“No,” came the muffled sound of the Weaselette. “Not until you agree.”

“ _Are you trying to pressure me into having sex with you against my will by holding me captive_?” he shouted, though not as loud as before.

“Yes,” she said. “Is it working?”

“ _I can’t believe you, Ginny. You know how I feel about small spaces._ ”

“I do,” she answered. “And that’s why it’s the best pressure point.”

“ _I hate you!_ ” Harry shouted to Draco’s surprise. _“Fuck you, you fucking cunt_. _And open the_ FUCKING _door._ ”

“Well fuck you, too, Harry,” she answered. “You two just have whatever fun you want in there.”

“ _Fuck off, Ginny_ ,” Harry shouted.

“Suit yourself, Harry. I’m not the claustrophobic locked in a cupboard. A small, dark cupboard.”

Draco could feel Harry sink to the floor and hear his breath quickening. “ _Weaselette – open the door right now. It’s not funny._ ”

“It’s not meant to be funny, it’s meant to be blackmail,” she answered. “I’ll come check on you later to see if he’s changed his mind. And for fuck’s sake – get a grip Harry.”

Draco heard the door to the classroom shut and he sat down in front of Harry who was sitting hunched over. As it was too dark in the cupboard to see anything, Draco wasn’t able to read Harry’s facial expression. He was, however, able to sense Harry’s rocking back and forth and to hear the shallow panting of a budding hyperventilation.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Harry chanted under his breath.

Draco carefully placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry?”

“I can’t be here,” Harry said mostly to himself. “I can’t be here. This is not good. There’s not enough oxygen. Oh god, we’re going to die in here. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” He stood up again and started pounding and kicking on the door. “ _Ginny, come back. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want if you open the door. We can have sex anywhere you want. We’ll let him watch if that’s what you want. He can join. I’ll be Snape. I swear I’ll do anything. Ginny. Ginny,_ ” he shouted as he kept kicking the door. “She’s not coming back. She’s not coming back. Oh god. _Open up open up open up_.”

Draco stood up as well. He was uncertain as to how to help Harry out of his panic attack (Draco assumed that was what it was).

Draco heard Harry shuffle around. “Are you there?” Harry asked. Before Draco could answer he felt Harry’s hands on his face. “You’re here. You’re here.” Then he turned around and started pounding on the door again while shouting for his idiot girlfriend.

In the end Draco yanked at Harry’s arm so he was turned away from the door to face Draco instead. Draco then tried to roughly estimate where Harry’s face was and slapped him hard on the cheek. At least that’s what he was aiming for. It would seem that Harry turned his head just before Draco slapped him, so he hit him on the forehead instead. At least it had the desired effect and Harry stopped shouting. He was still breathing very quickly, though, so Draco put his arms around him in a tight hug. Harry’s breath was hitched and his cheek was wet against Draco’s. Draco didn’t move away and didn’t say anything. He just stood with his arms around Harry, moving his hand in soothing circles, until he felt Harry’s breathing slowing down.

Eventually Harry put his arms around Draco’s waist and held on tight as he rested his cheek on Draco’s shoulder. Draco could feel the little puffs of air on his neck when Harry breathed. It was disturbingly arousing.

Draco felt himself harden and tried to shift a little so Harry wouldn’t notice. That didn’t help at all and the little puffs of air were still tickling his neck. As he felt himself harden further he tried to pull away a little so their groins weren’t touching. However, Harry followed his movements and Draco found his erection pressing against Harry’s hip. He felt Harry freeze up for a fraction of a second when he must have discovered why Draco was trying to move away. Draco waited for Harry to push him away but it didn’t happen. Instead he moved his hands lower on Draco’s back and adjusted himself slightly, making his and Draco’s erections line up against each other. Oh. So Harry was aroused, too. That was both relieving and awkward.

Draco sensed Harry’s head shift on his shoulder and soon felt the puffs of air on his neck change into kisses. Seeing as this wasn’t a dare on a Friday night game and clearly a reaction to Harry’s discomfort Draco decided to let him set the pace. If Harry came to his senses and decided to stop – fine. And if he decided to continue – also fine. You know, public service and all.

Harry kissed his way up and down Draco’s neck, licked his collarbone and sucked the soft spot below his ear. As it had in the cupboard in the common room a few Fridays ago, the darkness made the experience much more intense. Harry kissed his way to Draco’s jaw. Then he pulled back slightly. Draco could feel Harry’s lips ghosting his but none of them moved. Draco let his lips part slightly and felt Harry’s do the same. When Draco tilted his head a little Harry latched on to his lips in a fierce kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. Harry’s hands slid down further to rest on Draco’s arse, squeezing it and eliciting a small whimper from Draco. Draco held on tight to Harry’s back, pulling him as close as possible with one hand while burying the other in Harry’s soft hair. He felt Harry’s hand move from his arse around his hip to cup his erection and Draco moaned into Harry’s mouth as he pressed his cock against Harry’s hand. Draco felt Harry’s other hand move from his arse and shortly after Harry was unbuckling his belt, freeing Draco’s aching cock. Draco didn’t hesitate to do the same and soon they were standing holding each other’s erections. They began stroking each other at a high pace and were soon thrusting into each other’s fists. Panting, moaning and gasping filled the air and it took an embarrassingly short while for Draco to spill his warm fluids into Harry’s hand. Luckily Harry was soon to follow.

“I wonder what it tastes like,” Harry said when it was over. Draco didn’t answer. “Huh, salty and a little bitter but not altogether disgusting.”

“Ew, Harry, you tasted it?” Draco asked.

“I was curious,” Harry explained. As if that made it better.

Suddenly Draco felt something wet on his nose and realised that it was Harry’s hand covered in Draco’s sperm.

“Yuck, Harry, get that hand away from me.”

“Taste it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I?”

“Are you scared?”

“No. But it’s disgusting. I’m not going to eat my own spunk.”

“Then lick your own hand.”

“I’m not going to eat your spunk either, Harry.”

“I think you’re scared, Draco.”

Draco knew that Harry was trying to manipulate him into tasting it by asking if he was scared. It worked, too, because never let it be said that Draco was a man to step down from a challenge. Especially one presented by Harry Potter. So he carefully stuck out his tongue and placed a small lick on Harry’s palm. It did taste salty and slightly bitter but not as repulsive as he had initially thought.

“There, happy?” he asked and Harry removed his hand. Draco then licked his own hand in comparison, tasting Harry’s sperm. “Yours is salty too but also kind of sweet. Here, try,” he said, shoving his hand up to Harry’s face.

He felt Harry’s tongue on his palm as the Gryffindor tasted his own semen.

“Huh. Interesting,” Harry said.

Having no wand Draco settled for wiping his hand on Harry’s trousers.

He heard Harry shuffling. “Oh no, yuck,” Harry exclaimed.

“What happened?” Draco asked.

“I just ran my hand through my hair.”

“Why on earth would you choose to wipe it off in your hair?”

“It was an accident,” Harry explained. “My hair was in my eyes and I just ran my hand through it on reflex.”

Draco snickered. “And you can’t even clean it up until later.” Draco tucked himself in, buckled his belt and buttoned his trousers. Then he sat down on the cupboard floor and sensed Harry sit down next to him.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, referring to the hand job Draco assumed. “I didn’t mean to attack you like that.”

“It’s quite alright,” Draco answered. “It wasn’t as if I was an unwilling participant.”

“Still. Sorry. I guess I was a little upset.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Draco said. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t like small spaces.”

“No. I feel trapped when things get too cramped.”

“Why? I mean, it’s not as if I enjoy it but at least we know that nothing is coming to get us when we’re in here.”

“I grew up in a cupboard,” Harry explained after a while.

“Is that a muggle euphemism for a very small house?”

“No.”

“Bedroom?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Draco hoped he was still missing something because certainly it couldn’t be true that someone literally lived in a cupboard.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “My aunt and uncle didn’t like me very much. Or at all. So my cousin got the bedrooms and I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. Sometimes, if I burnt the food or said something at the wrong time or made some other major offence, they would lock me in there for days at a time without food. I didn’t know what it meant not to be hungry until I got to Hogwarts.”

“They starved you?” Draco asked incredulously.

“I guess you could call it that, yeah.”

“Wow… That’s…” Draco was at a loss as to what to say. What do you say to that, really?

“Yeah. It’s okay now, though. When Dumbledore got wind of my bedroom situation he made them give me Dudley’s spare room.”

“Oh,” Draco said, demonstrating his superior conversation skills.

“But hey, at least there were no dark lords living at my house,” Harry tried to lighten the mood.

“I guess not,” Draco said. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No problem. Just don’t spread the word. I’m not particularly keen on letting the wizarding world in on my private life more than they already are – not to mention the fact that a small room can cause such an undignified reaction with me.”

“Sure,” Draco said. “Your girlfriend is a bitch.”

Harry didn’t answer and Draco chose not to press the matter further.

They sat in silence for a while, until Harry sat up with a start, turned to face Draco and grabbed a firm hold of his arms. “I just realised something,” he said, sounding just a little panicky. “It’s the weekend. Nobody will be down here until Monday. And oh my god, it’s the rare ingredients cupboard. We might not get out until someone has to make a very rare potion. It could be years until they find our bodies. We’re going to die in here. There isn’t enough oxygen for us to last till Monday.”

Draco got a sudden urge to laugh at Harry’s ridiculous outburst but wisely thought better of it. “Harry, try to relax – it’s not –“

“It is,” Harry interrupted though he probably didn’t have any idea what it was Draco wanted to say. “It _is_.” He stood up again and Draco followed. “And _oh my god_ , we just used up half the oxygen during our… shenanigans. _Fuck_.”

Draco opened his mouth to say that if Harry had spent days at a time in a small cupboard without food they would certainly be able to make it till Monday where someone was sure to find it odd that all the ingredients were standing outside the cupboard. However, he didn’t get the chance as Harry started kicking and pounding on the door again, screaming for his bitch of a girlfriend (though he didn’t call her that) and promising to do whatever sexual thing she would ask of him.

It was impossible for Draco to get through to Harry and he was just getting ready to slap him again when the door opened, showing Slughorn’s surprised and stupid (but at that moment wonderful) face.

Harry froze momentarily and then pushed Slughorn aside and bolted past him out of the classroom.

“So you _did_ get locked in,” Slughorn said, sounding surprised. “Well, good thing I came to check on you then, eh? He was in a hurry.” He looked at where Harry had disappeared out of the classroom.

Draco carefully took both his and Harry’s wands from Slughorn. “He really had to go to the bathroom. We’ve been in there quite some time. If you will permit me, professor, I would like to do the rest of the cleaning and sorting magically as I’m sure it has become quite late. As I said; we were in there for quite a while.”

“Yes, of course,” Slughorn said, still looking dumbfounded. “You go ahead and do that. Would you give Harry his wand back when he returns?”

“I will. Thank you, professor,” Draco said.

Slughorn left the classroom and Draco quickly took care of the rest of the cleaning and sorting the ingredients alphabetically. He then hurried to the common room to see if Harry was there and to give him his wand back.

When he entered the portrait hole he immediately spotted the Weasel and Granger sitting on a sofa close to the fire. They both turned their heads as he entered. When the portrait hole closed behind him they both frowned.

“Is he back?” Draco asked.

“No?” Granger answered. “We thought you were together for detention.”

“We were. Something happened and he took off. I have his wand.” He handed it over to Granger who took it, eyeing him suspiciously. He ignored it. “You should go look for him,” Draco said. “If he isn’t here I imagine he might be outside.”

“Outside?” Weasley asked. “Why would he be outside? What happened, what did you do to him?” Both Weasley and Granger got up and made for their respective dorms in order to get their cloaks.

“I suggest only Granger goes to look for him,” Draco said, ignoring the Weasel’s questions.

“Why?” Weasley frowned and looked increasingly suspicious.

“Because your sister is what happened, Weasel,” Draco seethed. That stopped both Granger and Weasley in their actions.

“What do you mean?” Granger asked.

“She showed up in the Potions classroom and demanded he have sex with her right then and there – yes, literally – and when he wouldn’t she got upset and locked us in the cupboard we were currently cleaning. A small. Dark. Cupboard.” He looked at them meaningfully.

“Oh dear,” Granger said. “You stay here, Ron, and I’ll go. Do you know where he keeps the map – then we can check where he is.”

Draco didn’t know which map she was referring to and didn’t expect to get an explanation if he asked, so he refrained from doing so.

When they emerged from the Gryffindor boys’ dorm Granger hurried out of the portrait hole with her own and Harry’s cloaks and both of their wands.

Weasley and Draco stood for a moment looking at each other awkwardly.

“Thank you,” Weasley said.

“You should keep a leash on that sister of yours, Weasley,” Draco said. He turned around and went to his dorm without bothering to wish the Weasel good night.

*

As Hermione walked the hallways it suddenly occurred to her that it was past curfew. It also occurred to her that she didn’t care.

Her thoughts went to Ginny and how out of character she had been acting since they returned to school; trying to kiss Neville, eagerly kissing and doing a lot of other things with other boys on dares, complaining to and about Harry and now treating him like shit. Because even though Hermione didn’t care for foul language it really had been a shitty thing to do, knowing full well how Harry would most likely react to being shut in a cupboard. Hermione even went so far as to be thankful that Malfoy had been in there with him as it might have had a calming effect.

She entered the courtyard and continued to walk the grounds. The map had shown Harry by the lake and when she got there she saw him sitting at the edge, huddled over with his arms around his knees.

“Harry?” she asked carefully as she approached him.

He looked up. “Hey.”

“I brought your cloak. And your wand.”

“Thank you.”

“Stand up for a bit and I’ll spell your trousers dry. You must be freezing,” she said. Harry stood up and she dried his damp bottom, conjured a blanket and cast a warming spell on them both.

Harry sat down next to her on the blanket.

“Malfoy came to see us in the common room,” Hermione said.

“I gathered,” Harry answered. Since you have my wand.

“He told us what happened.”

“Is that why Ron isn’t here?”

“Yes. We thought – Malfoy suggested it would be best if Ron stayed in the common room.”

“Probably. What did he tell you?”

“Only that Ginny came and demanded you have sex and that she locked you in a cupboard when you refused.”

“That’s basically it,” Harry said. “I think she was drunk.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah. She said that we weren’t the only ones who could throw a party. So I’m guessing there’s a party in the Gryffindor Tower. Or hopefully somewhere more appropriate.”

“Harry, please don’t misunderstand me when I ask you this, okay?” Hermione began. “But are you sure that you two should… continue going out? I mean, that was very mean of her. And you generally don’t seem happy. And neither does she.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I mean, it’s like she’s a completely different person than the Ginny I started going out with. She’s complaining about virtually everything and every actual conversation, however nice it starts out, always ends in an argument, or at least a disagreement of some sort. And everything is always about sex. She’s a bloody nymphomaniac. Not that I’m complaining, mind. But I would like being able to _talk_ together as well. About real things. And when I try to talk to her she either complains or twists the conversation so I end up having sex with her instead. The only actual nice and productive conversation we’ve had recently was when we decided that it was okay to find other people attractive and okay to go through with dares but also to let each other know if we wanted to act on anything outside of a Friday night game. I really, truly want to make it work, because I care very much about the person I started going out with. She just makes it so hard.”

Hermione didn’t interrupt him – only put her arm around him, pulling slightly so his head came to rest on her shoulder.

“Is it me, Hermione? Am I being unreasonable?”

“I don’t think you are, Harry,” she said honestly and ran her hand through his hair. “What’s in your hair?” she asked curiously. It was very stiff and Harry usually didn’t use any products.

“Sperm,” he answered either without thinking or without caring.

“Sperm?” Hermione immediately removed her hand and wiped it on his shoulder even though it wasn’t moist or sticky anymore.

“Don’t worry, it’s not my own.”

“How is that supposed to not worry me?”

“Um…”

“I probably don’t need to ask whose it is if not yours, do I?”

“Probably not, no,” Harry admitted.

“Was it because you panicked?”

“Yeah. Don’t blame him. I started it.”

“I blame you both,” Hermione said. “But I’m not going to lecture you or anything – even though you know I don’t condone cheating – because that is what it was, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Thank you for not lecturing me. Are you going to give me detention?”

“Absolutely not,” Hermione answered with certainty. “And about Ginny. You need to talk to her. You’re both miserable.”

And on that note, they returned to the castle and the common room walking with their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

*

When Harry was lying in bed that night he thought about his relationship with Ginny and decided they needed to talk. He was willing to make an effort if she was.

After lights were out Harry heard a shuffling from Ron’s bed.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Ron said.

“That’s okay.”

“No,” Ron continued. “I want you to know that if you need to talk to me about _anything_ , you can. And I’ll listen. And I’ll try to see past the fact that she’s my sister.”

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Ron said and Harry also heard a muffled and sleepy ‘good night’ from Neville’s bed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life is getting in the way at the moment so the NeXT chapter may be a week or so. Hopefully less.

“I am so so so so sorry,” Ginny sobbed as she threw herself around Harry’s neck at breakfast Sunday morning.

Harry, keeping an eye on the door, had seen her as soon as she entered the Great Hall. She had looked frantically up and down the Gryffindor table until she spotted him and hurried to where he was sitting. She roughly pushed Neville out of the way to take his seat next to Harry and clung to him, sobbing apology upon apology into his neck.

“I don’t know what came over me, I really don’t,” she continued. “Please forgive me. I am so so so sorry.”

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione who were sitting opposite him, looking anywhere but in his direction.

“I didn’t realise was I had done until I was already in bed later and then I tried to go to the dungeon to find you but you weren’t there and then to your common room but I didn’t have the new password and sir Siegfried wouldn’t let me in and I am so so so sorry.” She climbed onto his lap and sat huddled up against him, crying.

Harry put his arms around her and stroked her back as she continued to sob and murmur apologies.

“It was a very shitty thing to do, Ginny,” he said, not wanting to lie to her just to console her. However, some of his initial anger evaporated at her obvious regret.

They sat there for a while, Ginny in Harry’s lap and his arms around her. After a while Harry gently pushed her off his lap and eased her into the seat next to him. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Have some breakfast and some coffee, Ginny,” he said. “Then we’ll go somewhere to talk.”

She obliged and hurriedly finished eating. Then they got up and left the Great Hall hand in hand.

“I don’t want to go to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” Harry said.

“Good,” Ginny said. “Let’s go to your dorm and we can set up some privacy charms. It’s a bit cold to be chatting outside and there isn’t really anywhere else private.”

So they went to Harry’s dorm and sat down on his bed, putting up the same privacy charms he had when he had sat there with Draco and Hermione. Only this time he made sure the silencing charm was properly cast.

At first they both just sat there, not speaking. Ginny looked very ashamed and Harry probably shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as he did.

“So,” he said. “Are you going to tell me what the hell last night was about or are you just going to sit there and let me guess? Because then we’re going to sit here for a very long time as I have absolutely no fucking clue as to what I could have possibly done to deserve that kind of treatment.”

She bit her lip. “I was drunk,” she said. “I know that’s not an excuse,” she continued before Harry could point that out, “but it wasn’t exactly helpful at the moment either.”

“And?”

Ginny sighed. “I think I was upset that you hadn’t come to see me all day. And that you hadn’t even asked me why I wasn’t going to be there Friday evening. And I knew you had detention with Slughorn in the evening so I figured I’d chance it and come see you.”

“I still don’t see how that warrants you locking me in a cupboard,” Harry pointed out. “Especially since you know very well how I feel about it.”

“I… I don’t have an excuse,” Ginny admitted. “I don’t know why I did it. I was desperate.”

“You were so desperate to have sex that you figured it would be a good idea to lock me in a cupboard to pressure me into fucking you?”

“I don’t know…”

“I _pleaded_ with you to come back,” Harry said and Ginny looked down in shame. “I was ready to do anything you asked of me if you would just let me out. You made me offer myself to you to do things I didn’t want to, just because you were too childish to accept that sometimes things just don’t automatically go your way.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

They sat in silence for a while.

“I kissed Draco,” Harry eventually said matter-of-factly and Ginny flinched. “Gave him a hand job, too. And received one.” Ginny flinched again. Harry was secretly pleased.

“He shouldn’t have taken advantage –“ Ginny started saying.

“He didn’t. I started it. He let me lead the whole way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I was panicking. I thought I was going to die. And I’m not even exaggerating, Ginny. I really thought I was going to die.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“As you should be.”

“I think I’m jealous of him,” she said. “There’s this weird sort of sexual tension between the two of you. And you’re completely obsessed with him. Always have been.”

“So you lock us in a cupboard together? That’s a little counterproductive don’t you think?”

“It would appear so,” Ginny agreed.

“Ginny, I was seriously considering breaking up with you last night.”

Ginny’s eyes welled up again and her lip trembled.

“I’m not going to, but I think we have some serious issues we need to work on to make this work,” Harry said.

“Absolutely,” Ginny said. “I’ll do anything, Harry, just please stay with me.”

“No sex. For at least a week.”

Ginny opened her mouth to protest but Harry beat her to it. “No, Ginny, that’s a condition. We need to work on our communication. I don’t want to be one of those couples who can only talk just before or after sex. I want to have real conversations. And I want post coital cuddling. And I want to just once try to wake up with you. I don’t care if it’s in the morning or the evening or the middle of the day. I just want to try to sleep next to you.”

“I can do those things,” Ginny agreed.

Harry cupped her cheeks and looked her in the eyes. She was looking back at him hopefully. Harry nodded and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I could do with a nap right now actually,” Ginny said. “I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night.”

Harry smiled at her and they both lay down, Ginny with her back to Harry and him spooning her. He fell asleep with a hope that everything might just be okay after all.

 

It was surprisingly difficult going without sex for the entire week as it had nearly been routine for them to meet up between classes or in the evenings for a quick shag. They did have a few good conversations instead and Harry could tell that they were both making an effort not to start arguing with each other. Come Friday Ginny had even stayed over two times. She was reluctant to do so again, as she said it made her uncomfortable knowing that her brother would see her in her underwear in the mornings. Harry didn’t try hard to persuade her as, though she said it made her uncomfortable that Ron saw her in her underwear, it didn’t seem as though she was uncomfortable when his other roommates did. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it a little too much for Harry’s taste; stretching sensually when she got out of bed and taking a long time bent over, searching for her clothes on the floor.

He owed it to his roommates that they did try to look away.

So Harry didn’t push the matter when Ginny said she wasn’t comfortable spending the night in his dorm.

“Is there a game on tonight?” Ginny asked as they met up for breakfast Friday morning.

“I assume so,” Harry told her. “I’m not going to be joining, though. I have detention. You can join if you want. If it’s okay with the others.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “And don’t worry – I’ll stay away from your detention tonight.” She smiled at him and winked, which annoyed Harry.

“It’s not funny yet, Ginny,” he said and she mumbled a sedate ‘sorry’ and looked down at her hands.

Harry met with Draco after supper and they walked together to Slughorn’s office.

“Good evening, boys,” Slughorn said and jovially squeezed Harry’s shoulder. There was a packet of crystallised pineapple open on his desk and he gestured towards it. “Have one, dear boys. Detention on a Friday night – you deserve a little treat to counter your bad luck.”

Both boys declined. Harry thought to himself that it was Slughorn’s fault and not his or Draco’s bad luck that had landed them in detention on a Friday night.

“Watching out for your figures, eh?” Slughorn said as he chuckled and patted his own enormous belly.

“Perhaps you could just tell us what we’re supposed to do tonight and then we will get on with it,” Draco snapped, earning an elbow in the ribs from Harry.

They were told to clean the Regular Ingredients’ cupboard as they had done such a brilliant job on the other one last week. Neither Harry nor Draco pointed out that that one had, in the end, been done by magic. It was most likely going to take a vastly larger amount of time this time as the Regular Ingredients’ cupboard was considerably larger than the Rare Ingredients’ cupboard.

They went to the Potions classroom and Harry got the cleaning materials ready while Draco cleared the cupboard of ingredients. When they were ready to start the actual cleaning of the cupboard Harry hesitated.

“Why don’t I just clean the cupboard and you can sort the ingredients,” Draco offered when he saw Harry’s reluctance to go in the cupboard.

“What, and let it be known that a Potter was ‘out-braved’ by a Malfoy? Never.” Harry moved towards the cupboard to enter it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco said. “This way I won’t have to touch the Flobberworms or the bat spleens or the dragon dung to sort the good from the bad.”

“I suppose when you put it like that…” Harry said. “But if you finish first, you’re helping.”

“Fine,” Draco agreed. “Besides, it’s probably for the best that one of us stays out there in case that spiteful girlfriend of yours decides to show up again and throw another temper tantrum.”

“She promised she wouldn’t show up today. Besides, she’s probably busy snogging Zabini right now. Or Parkinson. Or smith or Corner or whoever else she’s dared to do stuff with.”

“She can be very enthusiastic about those dares,” Draco said as he soaked the sponge and began cleaning the cupboard.

“She certainly can,” Harry answered, hoping he managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. They had, after all, agreed on dares being okay. “And I can imagine it’s even worse when I’m not nearby.”

They worked in silence for an hour or so until Draco broke the silence.

“I meant what I said last Friday you know.”

Harry felt himself blush and was glad that Draco’s back was turned against him.

“Which part? The part about my messy yet soft looking hair or the part about my nice arse?”

By silent agreement neither of them had mentioned the things that had been said last Friday so this was the first comment on it.

Draco coughed. “Well, that too I guess. I meant the part about your girlfriend. She doesn’t deserve you.”

“Mind your own business, Draco,” Harry said, reluctant to begin another discussion about his relationship.

Draco didn’t comment. Instead they worked on in silence.

After another couple of hours and Draco had finished cleaning the cupboard and was helping Harry sort the bad ingredients from the fresh, Draco broke the silence again. “Our potion is going to be done soon. I’m guessing Thursday next week or Monday the week after at the latest.”

“Do you think Slughorn will make us try it to see if it works?” Harry asked.

“I hope not,” Draco said. “Surely not even Slughorn could be so stupid.”

“What’s stupid about it?”

“Well, as we have discussed on an earlier occasion it’s not always clear what your desire is. Remember he told us about that man who took it and ate himself to death in toffee?”

“Yeah?”

“Imagine if one our classmates got the same urge. Or had a true desire to hurt someone. Or jump off the Astronomy Tower.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “But couldn’t you just stun the person until the effects wear off?”

“Well, depending on how well brewed or potent the potion is, a stunning spell doesn’t always work – sometimes the subject will be temporarily immune to the spells and sometimes the potion will react with the stunning spell and simply freeze up until the stunning spell wears off, thus still being in the subject’s system. And believe you me; _our_ potion is both _very_ well brewed and _very_ potent. I’m betting a stunning spell wouldn’t have the least bit of effect on either of us.”

“Wow. That could actually be dangerous. How long does it take to wear off?”

“That, of course, depends on how much you took. And, of course, how potent it is. Either it just wears off and that could vary between a couple of minutes and several hours – days if you’re very unlucky, or it wears off when you have achieved your goal.”

 “Would be fun, though. To see what it would have you do.”

“I guess it would,” Draco agreed.

They finally finished sorting the ingredients and putting them in alphabetical order. They went to Slughorn’s office to retrieve their wands and then headed for the common room.

“What time is it?” Draco asked.

“Nearly two. That took a lot longer than I thought it would,” Harry answered. “I wonder if people are still up.”

They weren’t. The common room was deserted and the lighting dim. An armchair had been tipped over and there was a nearly full bottle of Firewhiskey lying in a puddle of some sort of liquid next to one of the other armchairs. Draco went to pick it up.

“Fancy a drink before bedtime?”

“I guess I could be persuaded,” Harry answered grinning.

They sat down in front of the sofa closest to the fire. Draco conjured two glasses while Harry sat, gazing straight ahead into the fire, getting hypnotised by the flickering of the flames.

Draco handed him a glass, pulling him out of his trance. They both downed the strong beverage, wincing at the burning sensation in their throats, and Draco poured another one, which they downed just as quickly.

“Let’s play a game,” Harry said.

“A game? Why?”

“Since we didn’t join the others tonight.”

“Oh. Okay. Which one?”

“Don’t know,” Harry said. “I don’t know that many drinking games.”

“Neither do I. Mostly the ones we did here.”

“Yeah. So, truth or dare?”

“Fine by me.”

“And instead of hexing each other if we don’t want to answer or do a dare, we just take a drink instead. The whole thing – not just a sip.”

“Okay. And after each round we have another one just for good measure.” Draco said and Harry nodded his consent. “So, Harry, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Draco scrunched up his nose trying to think of something. Then he grinned and snickered in a, thought Harry, ominous way.

“Shave off your pubic hair and spell it on Weasley as a beard.”

“Absolutely not,” Harry said and downed his drink. “You have a twisted mind, Draco Malfoy.”

“I know.” Draco grinned at Harry.

“Truth or dare, Draco?” Harry asked.

“Dare.”

“Strip,” Harry said. “Then go to the Hufflepuff girls’ dormitory and make enough noise to wake them up while doing the helicopter.”

“What’s the helicopter?”

“It’s when you swing your hips to make your cock go around in a circle,” Harry explained.

“Not going to happen,” Draco said and drank his drink. Then he poured another for both of them as the first round was now over.

“Truth or dare, Harry,” Draco asked.

“Truth,” Harry said, just to try something else. He figured if all Draco’s dares were going to be like the first one, he would be very drunk very soon.

“Did it turn you on when you watched me wank? The first time, not the second.”

“Yes,” Harry said truthfully. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Did you mean for me to follow you when you and Pansy went to have sex that evening?”

“Yes,” Draco answered and poured the obligatory end-of-the-round-drink.

Harry was beginning to feel the buzz of a considerable amount of alcohol consumed over a very short period of time. He could already feel the humming in his body and the fuzziness in his mind.

“Truth or dare, Harry?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever thought about me while having sex with the W… with the female Weasley?”

Harry hesitated before he answered. “Yes. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you? About me, I mean.”

“Yes,” Draco answered, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, and poured their drink. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Harry said after thinking it over.

“My, my, Harry. Feeling daring are we? I thought you said I have a twisted mind.”

“I just wanted to see what you could come up with,” Harry admitted. “Plus I’m pretty sure I’m very nearly drunk.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and scrunched up his nose again. Harry couldn’t help but finding it adorable.

“Wank,” Draco said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Wank,” he said again. “Here. I want to see what you look like when you wank. It’s only fair.”

Harry’s increasingly fuzzy mind could easily see the sense in that and whatever second thoughts or hesitations he had about doing it were easily pushed aside with the reasoning that, yes; it would only be fair. Plus, it was a dare so it was okay. And he figured he most likely wasn’t going to last long as he had been without sex for nearly an entire week.

So he lay down on the floor and made himself as comfortable as could be, casting a few cushioning charms adding to the softness of the light yellow carpet and laying his head on one of the cushions from the sofa.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down a little so both his cock and balls were accessible. He was already half hard. Harry closed his eyes and shut out the fact that he was in the middle of the common room and anyone could walk in on him. He started stroking his cock lightly with his fingertips as he pushed his shirt up with his other hand, pinching a nipple and running it down his stomach slowly and further down to pull at his ball sack and squeeze his balls lightly. When his cock was fully erect and pre come had begun leaking from the tip he ran his palm over the head to use it as a lubricant. He moved his hand in slow, long strokes thrusting his hips upwards to meet the strokes. Occasionally he ran his thumb over the slit or squeezed and twisted his hand lightly. Gradually his strokes became faster and he was thrusting into his fist with more force.

His lips were red and moist and he was biting into one side of his lower lip. He fondled his balls harder and let his middle finger creep downwards to stroke his perineum. All the while he was moaning lightly. Eventually his thrusts into his fist became erratic and when he let a finger slide further back, putting pressure on his back entrance, he came hard, arching his back and opening his mouth in a silent scream as he came in long spurts into his fist and on his stomach.

Afterwards he laid still with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open, panting from the… exercise.

He searched for his wand, found it and with his eyes still closed cast cleaning charms on his hand, trousers, pants and shirt.

Eventually he opened his eyes and looked to the side at Draco who was looking at Harry intensely with an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at Harry lying there with parted lips and half closed eyes in post orgasm bliss.

Harry tucked himself in. “I need a drink.”

“So do I,” Draco seconded with a slightly rasping voice.

Harry propped himself up on one elbow and received the glass with his free hand. Both boys downed their drinks and Draco poured them another one which they also drank immediately. After that Harry laid down on his back again.

“I hope that was to your satisfaction, Draco,” Harry said grinning.

Draco cleared his throat. “I would say so, yes.”

“Good,” Harry said. “Draco; truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Harry turned to his side and looked up at Draco. It seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time when Harry, having thought it over and reasoned; ‘why not?’, said: “Kiss me.”

They were looking each other in the eyes, neither of them blinking. Eventually Draco lay down next to Harry, also on his side and, like Harry, using a cushion from the sofa as a pillow. They held eye contact. They were lying so close they only had to lean in slightly for their lips to meet.

After a couple of moments Draco did just that. It was a chaste and careful kiss with very little tongue – mostly a gentle massage of the lips.

Harry nudged at Draco’s legs with his knee and Draco let Harry’s leg nestle comfortably between his own.

After a minute or so of kissing, Harry pulled back. He prodded at Draco to move back a little and then lay his head on Draco’s cushion, draping his arm around Draco’s waist while Draco draped his arm around Harry’s.

It was in that position they were found when their classmates started milling in to the common room Saturday morning.

*

“Darling, you need to stop this nonsense and pull yourself together,” Pansy said on Monday morning at breakfast. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco said as he buttered his toast.

“I am talking about the way you keep staring at Potter when you think he isn’t looking.”

Draco lowered his knife and frowned as he looked at Pansy. “I don’t stare at Potter.”

”Yes you do, Draco,” Blaise interrupted. “That’s old news. It’s just that it’s more than usual.”

“And it’s this odd sort of ‘oh no, I hope he doesn’t catch me looking but I _need_ to see if he’s still doing the same thing he was ten seconds ago’,” Pansy mimicked.

“I wasn’t aware,” Draco said. “I’ll stop.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Blaise said. “I don’t care. But if you don’t want another close encounter with Granger and her ‘Protecting Potter’s Virtue’ act you should quit it for a while. Or at least be more discreet.”

Draco looked at the Gryffindor table where Granger was sitting next to Harry. She was sitting very straight and looking directly at him, not even bothering to hide it. Harry was looking down at his plate and poking at his food. The Weaselette was sitting on his other side, also very straight in posture and, like Granger, looking directly at Draco. And she was definitely giving him the evil eye.

“It could be me,” Draco said, “but I’m getting a less than friendly vibe from the Weaselette. What do you guys think?”

Both Pansy and Blaise looked in the direction of Draco’s gaze.

“I’d say you’re right,” Blaise said.

“Me too,” Pansy agreed.

“She looks magnificent like that, doesn’t she?” Blaise asked dreamily. “So feisty.”

Draco was grateful when Blaise winked at the Weaselette, causing her to blink several times in surprise, thus abandoning her focus on Draco. She then stood up and bent down to whisper something to Harry who immediately got up and followed her out of the Great Hall without looking in Draco’s direction. Draco chose not to try to analyse why that annoyed him.

When they were set up to continue their brewing in Potions later that day Draco discreetly cast a Muffliato.

“What did they do to you?” he asked without looking at Harry.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked innocently.

“You look positively ghastly.”

Harry looked down on his hands and arms, inspecting them as if those were the limbs that determined the degree of ghastliness in a person.

“I don’t look any different than usual I think,” Harry said.

“You look haunted. And guilty. And you’re acting like a puppy on a leash around Granger and the Weaselette. And you’ve barely acknowledged my presence during the weekend and you’re completely avoiding me. The only reason we’re talking now is because we’re potions partners.”

“Don’t call her that, Draco.” Harry sounded almost tired when he said it.

“Fine. The female Weasley. So, what did they do to you?”

“They didn’t _do_ anything,” Harry answered. “They _talked_. A lot. Hermione tried to get me to do one of her sessions of ‘Analysing Harry’. Ron got me out of that one. He’s been surprisingly fine about it, although he keeps throwing glances. He told her to quit bothering me about it. So instead she just cornered me and demanded I tell her the truth.”

“And what did you tell her?” Draco asked.

“I told her the truth; that we found the bottle of whiskey and needed to unwind and we got drunk and fell asleep. I told her it’s natural for people to caress nearby objects or people in their sleep without thought.”

“Which _is_ the truth,” Draco said.

“It is,” Harry answered.

Harry wasn’t doing any work on their potion at the moment as right now the only thing needed was to stir the right amount of times in the right direction and Harry was in no way fit to do that while talking. Draco, obviously being the superior intellect that he was, was perfectly capable of it. Instead, he was planning on letting Harry cut the lemongrass needed to complete the potion later.

“Although it is a vastly modified version of the truth.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Draco said. “If she ever discovers anything you can honestly tell her that you didn’t lie.”

“It still doesn’t feel right, though.”

“Gryffindor,” Draco said insultingly.

“Slytherin,” Harry countered.

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “And proud of it. But even so, the way she keeps staring at me I’m pretty sure she has an idea you left out parts of it.”

“Probably,” Harry agreed. “It wouldn’t be Hermione if she didn’t.”

“What about the littlest Weasley. She was certainly giving me the evil eye this morning.”

“Yes, well, she’s not terribly fond of you right now I’ll admit. She thinks you’re trying to break us up. She wants me to spend a bare minimum of time with you. Well, that’s what she agreed to in the end that is. To begin with she wanted me to never talk to you again and go back to calling you Malfoy. She even went as far as to demand that I resort in to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw so we wouldn’t have any classes together.”

“Merlin, how much did you tell her?” Draco asked incredulously.

“The same as I told Hermione.”

After a few moments Draco snorted. “Resorted indeed.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “There’s no way I would ever get in to Ravenclaw. And Hufflepuff… I mean, they’re a lovely bunch of people but they’re just so… Hufflepuffy-fluffy. And hard-working. If I ever _did_ consider a resorting the hat would put me in Slytherin faster than I could say ‘Please don’t do it’.”

“You? In Slytherin?” Draco said sceptically.

“Well it did want to put me there at the sorting,” Harry admitted, surprising Draco. “It said I could do great things – have fame and glory.”

“Why didn’t it?” Draco asked curiously.

“I asked it not to,” Harry admitted.

“Why? Slytherin is clearly the superior house. And fame and glory are good things.”

Out of the corner of his eye Draco could see Harry look at him and smile almost apologetically. “You had just been sorted in to Slytherin. And I _really_ disliked you. Past tense I’ll have you notice. And I don’t want fame and glory.”

“Oh.” That was surprisingly hurtful, Draco thought. Despite it being more than six years ago and past tense. “Well, at least I didn’t have to witness and crush your definite pathetic attempt to battle me for power.”

Harry chuckled; his warm, cuddly and stomach flip-flopping chuckle. “I’d say we had a few battles anyway along the road.”

“Anyway,” Draco said, getting back on track. “Did she have any more demands?”

“She demanded we start having sex again.” At Draco’s questioning look Harry elaborated: “After the thing with the cupboard I told her I wanted us to try to go at least a week without sex so we could see if there’s anything else we’re good at together.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. She should be an interrogator. She sat me down on a chair and then stood looming over me, bombarding me with questions. It was… unpleasant.”

Draco could imagine that. He was at a loss to see how on earth Harry put up with that bint. That hysterical, hypocritical, egotistical, whiny and childish bint. He wanted to ask Harry how he did it but didn’t think it would go down well so he refrained from it.

“Then she started berating me for the times you and I have kissed during the games and that time with the… You know.” He balled his hand into a loose fist and motioned it up and down a few times. So yes, Draco knew. “At least I won that argument,” he continued. “She has kissed at least double the amount of people I have. And that’s just the kissing. The only person whose genitals I’ve touched is you. She has touched and been touched by Merlin knows how many people. And sucked one off.”

“May I ask what you agreed on in the end?” Draco asked, assuming it somehow concerned him.

“We agreed that it’s okay for me to spend time with you but at a minimum and never alone, except of course on detentions where it can’t be helped. And I can keep calling you Draco.” (‘How positively merciful of her’, Draco couldn’t help muttering under his breath.) “There will be no resorting, obviously, but we will start having sex again – not that I’m too bothered about that, really. Except that I also agreed to slap her in the face and choke her at least once while I call her a whore and the like. She thinks I’ll like it once I try it.”

Draco had just finished the last stirs of the potion and was therefore able to turn around and face Harry with his hands on his hips.

“Does Granger know that?”

“Which part?” Harry asked.

“About the sex.”

“No.”

“I imagine not,” Draco said. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Because if she did I bet you the she-Weasel wouldn’t have looked so cocky and self-righteous this morning. In fact, I doubt that she would even have dared come down for breakfast.”

“Well, it’s not like I _want_ to do it,” Harry said, almost apologetically. “But I sort of have to if I want to keep being friends with you and continue joining the games on Fridays.”

“Harry,” Draco snapped at him. “It’s rape.”

“No it’s not,” Harry answered frowning. “I’m agreeing to do it. Plus, _I’m_ doing it to _her_. It’s not like _she’s_ asking to do it to _me_.”

“You’re being manipulated and coerced into doing something of a sexual nature that you don’t want to do. That’s rape.”

“I disagree,” Harry said, lifting his chin.

“Well I don’t. And I’m always right,” Draco stated firmly. “I’m telling Granger.”

Harry’s eyes went big momentarily and then narrowed. “You will do no such thing.”

“What in Salazar’s name you are doing with her in the first place is beyond me. I don’t know how you put up with that manipulative, hypocritical little bitch.” Okay, so he accidentally said it anyway.

“Leave off, Draco,” Harry said harshly. “Stop calling her names – I hate it when you call her names. And that’s ‘the Weaselette’, ‘the she-Weasel’ and ‘the female Weasley’ _as well_ as all the other things you just called her.”

“You don’t like me calling her names?” Draco asked.

“Of course I don’t,” Harry said exasperatedly.

Draco sneered. “So it’s wrong for me to call her hypocritical, manipulative, childish, selfish, unpleasant, possessive, obsessive and downright nasty, but you are ‘happily’ –“ (he made quotation marks) “-going to call her a cheap, dirty, filthy cunt. A gagging-for-it whore. A good for nothing slut. A worthless hole to fuck,” he spat at Harry.

Harry slammed his fist down on the workbench. “ENOUGH”, he bellowed, looking fuming. He pointed his finger at Draco. “You will stop calling her names. You will stop sticking your pointy nose into things that aren’t any of your business. And you will _not_ tell Hermione.”

Draco raised his chin defiantly. “I will.” He lifted the Muffliato in order to stop the argument. There was absolutely no way on earth that he was not going to tell Granger. He pushed aside the feeling of running to mummy for help. “End of discussion! Now cut the fucking lemongrass you fucking imbecile, self-destructive twat.”

“If you do it, I’m not talking to you again.”

“Well, then you two can renegotiate the terms of the contract can’t you?” Draco hissed. “Now _cut the fucking grass_ ,” he said more loudly.

“Then _hand me the knife, you arrogant arse_ ,” Harry said just as loudly.

Draco grabbed the silver blade knife and handed it over to Harry. As their fingers touched, electricity shot through Draco’s fingertips, tingled up his arm, down his back and landed in his stomach where it started fluttering. It made him let go of the knife. Unfortunately Harry chose that moment to also let go of the knife and they both watched in slow motion as the knife somersaulted downwards through the air until it pierced and lodged itself firmly into Draco’s foot.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed loudly and grabbed on to the edge of the desk. “ _Fuck that hurts._ ” They had the attention of the other students and Slughorn who was standing at Pansy and Blaise’s work bench with his hands clasped to his cheeks, helpfully saying ‘oh dear, oh dear’.

“Well don’t just stand there you utter idiot,” he snapped at Harry. “ _Get it out_.”

“Sorry,” Harry said and bent down and carefully touched Draco’s foot.

“ _Ow_ , FUCK,” Draco exclaimed as Harry pulled and quickly cast an Episkey on his foot. Apparently the healing spell didn’t do anything for the pain as his foot was still sore as fuck to say the least. “You suck at healing charms!”

“You need to go to the hospital wing,” Harry stated without commenting on the criticism.

“I can’t. The potion’s nearly done,” Draco said, grabbing on to the work bench tighter.

“At least take something for the pain,” Harry insisted. “I’m sure Slughorn has something.”

“No. I need my wits with me. If we add the lemon grass today we will be able to add the dew drops on Thursday. We can finish on Thursday. We’ll be the first to finish.”

“So what?” Harry exclaimed. “There’s no prize for finishing first. Just go to the hospital wing and get fixed up and we’ll do it on Thursday – then we will finish it on Monday. Or tell me what to do and I’ll do it now and we’ll still be able to finish on Thursday.”

Draco attempted a sarcastic laugh but it came out more as a pathetic whining and choking sort of sound. “You’ll only ruin the potion if I’m not here. And it’s not about a prize. It’s about finishing first.”

His foot was very, very painful and Draco knew he had to go see madam Pomfrey. Just not until after they had finished adding the second to last ingredient and stirring the last stirs.

So he explained to Harry carefully how to cut it, to add it to the potion a pinch at a time and to stir the potion the right amount of clockwise and counter clockwise stirs and let Harry do it while he watched. Before Draco went to the hospital wing he assured Harry once again that he _was_ going to tell Granger.

“I swear, I won’t talk to you again if you do it,” Harry hissed quietly. “They’re friends and I am not having you disrupt their friendship just because my girlfriend wants us to try something new. Stop meddling in my affairs and mind your own fucking business.”

“Fine, I won’t tell Granger. And I’ll stay out of your ‘affairs’. Do whatever the fuck you want. But don’t come running to me when your guilty conscience over hitting your girlfriend kicks in.” Draco turned around and limped towards the door.

“Fine,” Harry said loudly. “And fuck you by the way.”

“ _Tell me what_?” he heard Ganger shouting after him on his way out.

Draco didn’t answer but merely flipped Harry as he exited the classroom. Stupid Potter. Of course he was going to tell Granger anyway.

*

“A word with you, mister,” Hermione came charging towards Harry who was sitting at the Gryffindor table.

She had stayed behind in the common room when Harry and Ron went down, claiming that she had something she needed to do before supper. Seeing Draco entering the Great Hall at the same time as her told Harry exactly what it was that she had needed to do.

He glared at the Slytherin, his eyes shooting daggers at him. Draco just glared back and went to sit between Crabbe and Goyle.

“Can it wait, Hermione?” Harry asked calmly. “As you see I’m in the middle of supper.

“No, Harry, I’m afraid it can’t.” She pulled him out of his seat and dragged him along behind her out of the Great Hall. “Draco told me,” she said when she had dragged him into a classroom.

“I gathered. He had no right.”

“He did the right thing, Harry. You’re being forced to do things you don’t want to do. That’s wrong and I’m going to talk to Ginny about it.”

“Hermione, I’m warning you: _Don’t_ ,” Harry said. “I’m willing to keep an open mind and giving it a try. End of discussion. Besides, I owe her.”

“How could you possibly ‘owe’ her something like that?”

“Hermione, I fell asleep cuddling with another man. My conscience is killing me.”

“Why? I mean, I admit it was odd and not a little bit disturbing finding you like that but I’ve been thinking about it and as you said; you were drunk and it’s normal to cuddle in your sleep. I don’t see how you should feel so guilty about that that you are willing to do things with her that you’re uncomfortable with. Unless… that’s not all you did, is it?” Hermione sent him a piercing gaze.

Harry chewed on his lip before he answered. “No. It’s not.” When Hermione didn’t say anything but merely raised her eyebrows inquiringly he continued. “We had a few drinks and then decided to play truth or dare. Then we had a lot of drinks. In very large glasses, I might add, considering what we were drinking.”

Hermione shook her head, sighing deeply. “What happened?”

Harry sighed as well. “Before I tell you, I would like to point out that I was very drunk and that my alcohol induced brain was reasoning differently than my non-intoxicated brain would.”

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Right. Did you have sex?”

“ _What_? No! Of course not, Hermione. We… I… He dared me to wank. You know, since I’ve seen him do it twice and he’d never seen me. At the time it seemed like the fair thing to do. So I did. And then after that, I dared him to kiss me. That also seemed like a reasonable thing to do at the time. And I figured it would be okay to do it since it was a dare.”

Hermione shook her head, looking very disappointed, and then frowned, looking as if she had just thought of something. “Hold on. You said you’d seen him masturbate twice. When was the second time? You didn’t say anything about that.”

Harry immediately blushed. He hadn’t intended on ever letting anybody know about the second time. Cursed be his ‘talk – then think’-approach to life. “Um… That’s because I miscalculated just now. There was only the one time.”

“Right,” Hermione said. “Tell me the truth now or I’m telling Ron.”

“Are you threatening me?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes, now spit it out.”

Harry gave up. “It was that night when I told you those things. In my bed. I told him first, as you know and I was getting a head rub and all that talk about sex and the touching – we both got aroused and it wouldn’t go away. And he refused to leave my bed with an erection. And I said to him that he would have to take care of it there, then, if people shouldn’t begin thinking I’d dragged him in there to stay the night. So he did. And I tried to look away but it was really difficult.”

Hermione looked unimpressed. “You do realise you’re having an affair, don’t you?”

“No I’m not,” Harry said. Because he definitely wasn’t.

“You are, Harry. I’m not going to argue with you about it. I will still say, though, that regardless of your misdeeds Ginny does not have a right to determine what you shall or shall not do. You need to stand firm.”

“I hate Draco.” Harry scowled and crossed his arms. “I thought I’d convinced him not to tell you. I said I’d never speak to him again if he did. I told him I didn’t want him to disrupt yours and Ginny’s friendship. And he called her all sorts of nasty things. He was very mean to her.”

“He’s a Slytherin, Harry. Of course he’s going to do just as he pleases. And the name calling – isn’t that what she’s asking you to do?” Hermione countered. “Draco was right in telling me.”

“You know, Hermione,” Harry said. “Sometimes you would think that the two of you get together to coordinate the things you say.” Hermione looked affronted and Harry was secretly pleased. “And what’s with calling him Draco anyway?”

“Well, loathe as I am to admit it I get the feeling that he does actually consider you a friend – otherwise he wouldn’t have told me. So I thought it prudent.”

“Does he call you Hermione?” Harry asked sceptically.

Hermione made an un-Hermione-like sort of snort. “Hardly. But he didn’t object to me calling him Draco.”

“I’m done talking to you now, Hermione. I’ve arranged with Ginny to meet up before she’s meeting Neville in the library. I’d appreciate it if you would mind your own business and not discuss this with Ginny.” Harry turned and left the classroom before Hermione could answer. He went back to the Great Hall to see if Ginny had finished. She had and they left the Great Hall together, headed for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

As he looked over to the Slytherin table and caught Draco’s eyes he made a point of slipping his arm around Ginny’s shoulder. Harry raised a defiant eyebrow and hoped that his face expressed just how displeased he was with Draco’s interference.

*

When back in the common room Hermione pulled Ron aside. “I’m going to do something, Ron, and I can’t tell you what it is at the moment.”

“Why are you telling me now then?” Ron asked logically.

“Because you’re going to get suspicious and before you fly off the handle I wanted to assure you that what I’m going to do is out of concern for a mutual friend.”

“I’m guessing I don’t need to ask who this friend is.”

“I should imagine not. Anyway, I would like you to trust that I have not gone crazy and if I’m behaving oddly, that’s the reason.”

Ron sighed. “Alright. I can’t promise I won’t get suspicious,” he said. “I also can’t promise I won’t ask. Because you’re already acting odd.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “I just wanted to let you know.” She patted his arm and crossed the common room to Draco who was sitting in an armchair in the corner reading a book.

She cast a Muffliato and a silencing charm around them.

“Hello Draco,” she said.

Draco looked up. “Hello Granger,” he said, frowning.

“I was wondering if I could have a word.”

“I believe you already are.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She summoned an armchair and sat down across from Draco who raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“I am finding this a bit awkward,” she said.

“As am I,” Draco concurred.

“Right. I have decided that you have Harry’s best interest at heart.”

“ _You_ have decided. Well, then it must be true – the great Granger is never wrong,” Draco said sarcastically.

“Indeed,” Hermione agreed, ignoring the sarcasm. “I am still undecided as to your motives –“ (Draco rolled his eyes) “- but, as I said, I believe you have Harry’s best interest at heart. So do I and I would like your help with something.”

“Well, spit it out and we will see,” Draco said. He closed his book and folded his hands on top of it.

“They’re studying tonight.” Hermione hoped that Draco would catch on immediately so she wouldn’t have to elaborate. She was embarrassed of her own intentions and would really prefer it if she didn’t have to be the one to speak them out loud.

Draco slowly formed a shark-like grin that made Hermione cringe. “Say it,” he said, and Hermione got the distinct feeling that he knew _exactly_ what it was she wanted.

“I’d really rather not,” she said, blushing and chewing her lower lip.

“But Granger, if you don’t tell me what it is you want, how can I possibly help you?” he asked innocently.

Hermione hesitated and then gave in. “I want you to spy on them. And I want to come with you. Like a stakeout.”

Draco smirked. “Are you telling me you want my help spying on your friend?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I am, yes.”

“Why?” Draco demanded.

She sighed. “Apparently you and Harry have rubbed off on me. I want to see if she’s really up to something.”

“I thought she was your friend, Granger.” Draco said innocently. “Would you really steep so low as to spy on your friend?”

She looked at him indignantly and crossed her arms. “You spied on her too.”

“Yes, but I didn’t spy on a friend. I spied _for_ a friend.” He frowned. “Ex-friend I guess,” he added.

“What do you mean Ex-friend?”

“He said he’d never talk to me again if I told you and so far he has been true to his word,” he said casually. Indifferently.

Hermione could see something in Draco’s expression that sure didn’t resemble neither casualness nor indifference, though he hid it well. “Such a drama queen,” she said, rolling her eyes and earning what almost looked like a quirk of the corner of Draco’s lips. “Well, it’s only been a few hours. Of which he has spent one hour somewhere with Ginny. I’m sure he’ll come round. He is a bit of a hothead.”

“He is also very stubborn,” Draco added. “Anyway I don’t care. Why do you want me to come along, Granger? I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of arranging your own stakeout.”

Hermione decided she might as well be honest with him. “First of all, I need to be there before them and I don’t know where they are usually sitting. Second of all, it will make me feel better knowing that I’m not the only one engaging in that sort of undignified activity.”

Draco snorted. “And why do you think I would agree to partake in these ‘undignified activities’ as you put it?”

“Because you’re curious,” Hermione answered promptly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine. We should get going, though. When I observed them they were there at around eight-ish. It’s a quarter to.”

“Okay then. Let’s get going.”

Draco looked at her with narrowed eyes for a moment. “It’s unsettling to be sort of getting along with you.”

“I agree,” she said. They both stood and made for the portrait hole. Hermione noticed Ron’s frown as his eyes followed them out the door.

*

On their way to the library Draco couldn’t help the occasional chortle that escaped him as he contemplated the hilarity of the situation that was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin and son of a pureblood supremacist, aiding and abetting Hermione Granger, Gryffindor and muggleborn, in spying on the girlfriend of his former nemesis to uncover whether she was up to no good with one of aforementioned nemesis’ other friends.

When they got to the library Longbottom was standing at Madam Pince’s desk, handing over some books. Draco crouched behind a bookshelf along with Granger to avoid discovery until out of the corner of his eye he saw Longbottom leave Madam Pince’s desk and move further into the library. He waited along with Granger until they were fairly certain they wouldn’t be discovered when they moved away from their current hiding place.

Then they quietly proceeded to what seemed to be the Weaselette’s and Longbottom’s usual spot.

It took some sneaking getting settled behind Draco’s favoured bookshelf, but Granger had cast a disillusionment charm on both of them and neither the Weaselette nor Longbottom noticed them.

He chanced nudging at a few books on the shelf that was in eye level so he could get a clearer view and sensed Granger do the same. Then Granger quietly cast a silencing spell and they stood next to each other, watching the she-Weasel and Longbottom study.

After an hour or so in which absolutely nothing noticeable had occurred Draco yawned and stretched.

“Stop yawning. It’s contagious,” Granger said and yawned herself.

“We should have brought coffee,” Draco said.

Granger chuckled. “Yes. And doughnuts. That would complete the image.”

“I don’t get it,” Draco admitted. “What’s funny about coffee and doughnuts?”

“It’s a stereotype in muggle movies. Police officers always bring coffee and doughnuts on stakeouts. I forgot you wouldn’t know.”

“What’s a moovee?”

“Sort of like s theatre play.”

“Huh. Well, we shall have to remember that in the unlikely event that this should ever take place again,” Draco said, eliciting a small surprised sound from Granger, which made him wonder if she had expected him to make some sort of snide or unpleasant remark. She probably had. “It’s a pity the exceptions to Gamps Law of Elemental Transfigurations prevent us from conjuring food or beverages,” he said longingly.

“You know Gamps Law?” Granger asked, sounding surprised.

Draco frowned. “Of course.”

Granger didn’t answer but looked impressed.

“Hey, Granger,” Draco said after another while of watching and nothing happening. She made a sound indicating that she was listening. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not really sorry I called you Umbridge that evening.”

“Oh. Well, that’s… not very nice. I suppose,” she answered.

“I am, however, very sorry for all the times I called you a mudblood. And other nasty things,” he said while keeping his eyes on the Weaselette and Longbottom.

“Oh,” Granger said again. “Well, you didn’t really know what you were saying I guess, so…” she trailed off.

“I knew exactly what it meant. And I also meant it when I said it. I just didn’t know that what it meant wasn’t true.”

“Thank you,” Granger said softly after what seemed like a very long time and they settled in to watch again.

_Finally_ , something interesting happened. From where he and Granger were positioned Draco could see the Weaselette beginning to doodle on her parchment. After a while Longbottom noticed, too.

“Are you getting tired, Ginny? Do you want to stop for the night?” he asked.

“No. I’m just finding it hard to focus.”

“Is it about Harry again?”

The Weaselette snorted. “When is it not about Harry?”

“I’m guessing it somehow has to do with what happened in the weekend?”

“You mean when all the 7th years entered the common room in the morning to find my boyfriend and his male lover entangled on the floor in front of the fireplace?” the Weaselette asked acidly.

Draco felt his ears heat up.

“They aren’t lovers, Ginny. We’ve been over this.”

“Okay then, tell me, Neville; how many male friends have you ever spent the night cuddling in front of the fire with?”

“Um… Not a lot,” Longbottom admitted.

“Exactly,” the Weaselette said as if that had proven her point.

“It still doesn’t have to mean what you think. I mean, they had just served detention. And we know it took a long time for them to finish because they weren’t back yet when we all went to bed. I think it’s completely understandable that they felt like unwinding with a drink.”

“Detention,” the Weaselette said as if the word had offended her in some way. “They were cleaning a cupboard. How long can that take? For all I know they could have finished in half an hour and then spent the rest of the time fucking each other’s brains out.”

Granger cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.

“I would like to point out, Granger, that no such thing happened,” Draco said, his voice protected by the silencing spell.

“I didn’t think it did,” Granger answered and they once again directed their focus on the Weaselette and Longbottom.

“Stop being ridiculous, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “You really need to put more faith in Harry.”

The Weaselette dropped her head on the table. “Ugh. I know, Neville. I know. It’s just… I just _know_ something happened.”

Draco sensed Granger peeking at him. “Nothing happened, Granger,” Draco once again felt like pointing out, even though, technically, it wasn’t entirely true. Well, not just technically – it wasn’t true at all.

“Harry told me what happened,” Granger said. “ _Exactly_ what happened,” she added sharply. Draco couldn’t help turning his head to look at her. Judging by her stern look it seemed Harry had indeed told her _exactly_ what happened. Draco couldn’t help blushing. He coughed and went back to observing.

Longbottom rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm. “Look, Ginny, even if something _did_ happen, you weren’t exactly a saint that evening either.” The Weaselette shifted in her seat and even though she had her back to Draco he could sense that she was uncomfortable.

“That’s not… Those were dares,” she said.

“Most of them were, yes,” Longbottom continued, “but you weren’t dared to let Boot fondle your breasts during your kiss. And you weren’t dared to massage Zabini’s arse when you were kissing him. And you _definitely_ weren’t dared to dry hump Smith so hard during your kiss that you made him come in his pants.”

Draco turned to look at Granger. “Seriously?”

“Mmhm,” Granger answered without looking at him. “It was exquisitely humiliating for Smith.”

“Harry dry humped Malfoy once, remember?”

“Yes, Ginny. I do. You need to stop comparing yourself to Malfoy. You’re getting paranoid. And just because Harry does something with someone doesn’t automatically mean that you should, too. Harry had nothing to do with you dry humping Smith. He wasn’t even there. That was all you.”

“You’re being unfair, Neville,” the Weaselette snapped.

“How so?” Longbottom asked.

“I… It’s… You’re twisting what happened. Plus, I was drunk.”

“And so was Harry. And I will still point out, the most likely scenario is what Harry already told you; they got drunk, got tired, fell asleep and accidentally cuddled.”

“But –“

“No, Ginny,” Longbottom said sharply. He even looked stern. “You’re being childish. This ‘it’s okay for me to act how I want but Harry has to behave precisely how I want him to’-thing is getting ridiculous. You need to stop acting like a spoiled child and start behaving like you’re in an equal relationship where, by definition, equal respect is required.” He trailed off as the Weaselette lowered her head. He looked concerned and reached across the table to take her hands. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The Weaselette suddenly sobbed which took Draco by surprise.

“Oh dear,” Granger said next to him.

Longbottom quickly moved around the table and sat down next to her and then turned the chair 90 degrees so he was sitting facing her profile. He put his arms around her and she let herself relax against his chest. Longbottom stroked her hair while making soothing noises.

“I just feel like I’m drowning and I can’t reach the surface,” the Weaselette said, her voice thick.

“Ginny, you two really need to talk. Neither of you is happy at the moment. And I hate seeing that. I care a lot about Harry and I really care about you, too.”

“You do?” the Weaselette asked and Draco could almost hear the puppy dog eyes she most likely threw at Longbottom.

“Of course I do. You know I do, Ginny.” Longbottom’s voice was soft and tender. Draco could feel Granger tense up next to him.

The Weaselette reached up and cupped Longbottom’s cheek.

“Oh no. Don’t do it. Don’t do it,” Granger whispered.

The Weaselette leaned in. And when she captured his lips with hers, Longbottom didn’t move away but kissed her back.

“No. No, no. Nonononono,” Granger said as they kissed, cupping her cheeks in her hands. “Should we interfere?” she asked Draco. She sounded almost desperate.

“What, and let them know we’ve been spying on them? I don’t particularly fancy being hit by one of the Weaselette’s Bat Bogie hexes. Or worse. So no; we shouldn’t.”

“Right. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” Granger chanted, cradling her head between her hands and shaking her head.

Draco felt a stab of sympathy for her and, despite himself, reached out and patted her back. “There there, Granger.”

After what seemed like forever but was most likely not more than five seconds or so Longbottom moved his hands to the Weaselette’s shoulders and gently pushed her away while he pulled away himself.

“Ginny, this is wrong. This is very, very wrong.”

“I thought you said you cared about me,” the Weaselette answered flatly. Draco couldn’t determine the tone of her voice.

“I do, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “I’d be a fool not to.”

“Then what?”

“Then what? Then _what_? You have a _boyfriend_ , Ginny, that’s what. In case it escaped your notice.” Longbottom threw out his arms exasperatedly. “A boyfriend who happens to be a very good friend of mine. A boyfriend who cares about you a lot. And trusts you. And trusts _me_. I can’t do this, Ginny. You can’t just walk around kissing whoever you want to. You’re toying with people’s emotions. It’s cruel.”

“I’m toying with your emotions?”

“No, not at all, absolutely not, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “I thoroughly enjoy being attracted to one of my best mates’ girlfriend. Especially with the knowledge that even though she just kissed me it’s him she’s going to be with.”

“Wow. Sarcasm,” Granger murmured through her distress. “Who knew.”

Longbottom continued. “I enjoy the feeling of a punch in the gut every time they disappear together. I enjoy listening to him talk about their sex life. And I _really_ enjoy seeing her kissing and groping everyone and his brother every Friday night.” He got up. “I can’t tutor you anymore, Ginny. Besides, you don’t suck at it as much as you think you do. And figure out what you want – Harry doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Good night.” He got up and turned around, leaving the Weaselette sitting behind, looking at his back with her mouth agape. After a while she got up and left.

Draco turned to look at Granger who was standing still, looking lost.

“Oh no,” she said. “What do I do?” She looked at Draco almost pleadingly as if he might find a solution to make everything okay.

“I don’t know, Granger,” he said honestly.

Granger’s eyes started welling up. “I should have just interfered before any of this happened. Or better yet; I shouldn’t have spied on her in the first place. If I hadn’t been so nosy I wouldn’t know any of this and I could just go on not knowing. Worrying but not knowing.” She drew a ragged breath.

“Yes, well could have, would have, should have,” Draco said. He tilted his head and said pensively: “You cry easily, don’t you, Granger?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Why _are_ you crying? It’s not like it’s you she’s cheating on.”

“It’s called empathy,” she spat. “ _Fuck_!” She moved her hands to her head and pulled at her hair.

That one took Draco by surprise. He couldn’t recall ever having heard Granger swear like that.

“Oh, and poor, poor Harry,” she continued. “And poor Neville. And Ginny, too. Oh they must all be so frustrated.” A tear trickled down her cheek and she sniffled. Draco, feeling awkward, patted her back again, once again muttering ‘there there, Granger’.

Granger wiped her eyes. “Let’s just get back to the common room. The library is closing soon anyway.”

So they left the library and headed towards the common room.

“Do you think I should tell Harry?” Granger asked quietly.

“No,” Draco said. “I don’t think that will do him any good. He will most likely focus on the fact that you spied on his girlfriend.”

“Right. And I can’t tell Ron either. He’ll only freak out at Neville even though it wasn’t his fault. Entirely.”

When they reached the portrait hole Granger hesitated. “Seriously, Draco, what do I do?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “Carry on as usual. Something is bound to happen at some point. I think it would be best if we leave it up to them to figure out what and when. You just go in there and go to bed. Things might look better in the morning.”

“Yeah right. What’s the point of fucking magic if you can’t make things un-happen?” Granger spat. That was the second time she swore within half an hour.

“I’ll obliviate you if you want.”

Granger half sobbed half laughed. “I’ll think about it.” Her face fell again and her eyes welled up once more.

On impulse, Draco reached out and hugged her. He had difficulty remembering when he had last felt so awkward. Suddenly something dawned on him. “Oh Merlin; I’ve been Hufflepuffed. Their touchy-feely emotions have seeped through the walls from their dormitory into mine.”

That earned him another little laugh. He gave her a little squeeze just as the portrait hole opened and Weasley climbed out, seeing the woman of his affections crying on his enemy. On realising he was there, Granger pulled away from Draco, still teary eyed.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he asked. “What did you do to her? Where have you been?”

“We were in the library. I proved her wrong on an Arithmancy theory,” Draco lied.

“Is that true, Hermione?” Weasley asked suspiciously.

Granger nodded. “Yes. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning, Ron.” She climbed through the portrait hole and disappeared from sight.

“I’m watching you, Malfoy,” Weasley said, narrowing his eyes and pointing his index finger at Draco.

“I have no doubt, Weasel.” Draco climbed through the portrait hole. As he walked across the common room to get to his dorm he noticed Longbottom sitting by the window, staring at the rain that was pouring down outside.

He didn’t sleep well that night.

*

People were acting odd, Harry thought not for the first time that week, as he made his way to breakfast Thursday morning.

He had caught Ron eyeing Draco suspiciously on numerous occasions for the last couple of days and had at first thought that perhaps Hermione told him about what had really happened that night in the common room. On the other hand he was fairly certain that Ron would have looked at _him_ suspiciously as well if that were the case. And it wasn’t just Draco. He was also eyeing Hermione suspiciously. And worriedly.

Harry could understand Ron’s worry about Hermione. He worried about her himself. She had been jumpy, moody and evasive since Monday or so. At first Harry thought it might have to do with their conversation about what had really happened with Draco and about Ginny’s demands following but that would be highly un-Hermione-like so he figured that wasn’t it. He would catch her looking at him, pityingly and concerned. When he approached her about it, however, she denied doing so and told him it was all happening in his imagination. Unlike her she had even refrained from broaching the topic of the Harry-Ginny-Draco ‘affair’ that she was usually so intent on discussing. That didn’t bother Harry as such, but it did worry him. He had tried discussing Hermione’s odd behaviour with Ron but he seemed at a loss as well. He had told Harry that he had found Hermione crying outside the common room on Monday evening. While being hugged by Draco. They had told him some fib that Ron seemed intent on believing. Harry wasn’t fooled. He just didn’t know what to do about it since Hermione evaded the subject or simply just made some lame excuse every time he tried questioning her about it. One time she had even run away from him.

Ginny was acting strangely, too. She seemed both distant and intent on close physical contact at all times, even more insistently than usual if that was even possible.

And Neville hadn’t been much better. He was often caught staring vacantly into the air or frowning at something unbeknownst to Harry.

And then there was Draco who Harry also caught staring at him several times with the same sort of look Hermione gave him. And every time Harry caught him he would look away again, trying to look like he hadn’t just been staring at Harry with a look on his face that suggested Harry was dying. At one point Harry had been concerned that Draco and Hermione _had_ indeed discovered that he was suffering from some horrible illness but then he figured that they would have most likely told him if that were the case. Hopefully.

He hadn’t asked Draco about his odd behaviour as he was still not talking to the deceiving, conniving, lying git and wasn’t planning on talking to him any time soon. Rotten snitch.

 

“Are you going to start talking to me again anytime soon?” Draco asked as they were standing by their Potions workbench, Draco stirring the potion and Harry measuring out the dew drops they had collected on detention a few weeks ago.

“Wasn’t planning on it, no,” Harry said. He took the measuring cup and carefully added the dew drops to the potion one drop at a time while Draco stirred it carefully. Draco seemed annoyed and was muttering under his breath but Harry didn’t care.

After fifteen minutes of meticulous adding and stirring they stood completely still watching as the potion changed its colour from turquoise to purple to crimson.

“We’re done,” Draco whispered. “It’s done. We’ve finished. We finished first.” He put on his signature smirk and turned around to look at Hermione and Ron who were cutting their lemon grass. “Suck it, Granger,” he said loudly and grinning. “We finished first.”

Hermione looked up. Her lips were in a tight line and her cheeks flushed. “Congratulations.” She smiled but it looked fake. Harry supressed a snicker. Hermione _hated_ being number two.

Harry conjured a small flask and poured a sample of their potion into it. From the front of the class Slughorn made his way to their workbench. “What is this I hear? Have you finished your potion?” Slughorn studied the remaining contents in their cauldron. “Why this looks absolutely perfect. Very well done, Harry. And Mr. Malfoy of course.”

Draco’s nostrils flared dangerously but he didn’t say anything.

“Professor, I didn’t really do anything. It was all Draco. I just did as he told me to. I would have exploded the classroom on the very first day if he hadn’t stopped me.”

Slughorn shook his head. “So modest, so modest, my dear boy.” He smiled and slapped Harry on the back, completely ignoring Draco. “Don’t ever think so low of yourself. The best teachers let their students learn by doing. Excellent job, Harry.” And suddenly Harry had enough.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m rotten at Potions, professor. The only reason I was a small wonder last year was that I cheated. All year.” Slughorn looked shocked. He held a hand to his chest and supported himself on the desk with the other. His eyelids fluttered as if he was going to faint. Harry continued. “I had a book that was already full of notes on how to do things. Draco is the genius here.”

“Shut up, Harry. I don’t need you to swoop in and defend me,” Draco interrupted, sounding annoyed.

“I thought you liked it when I swooped in and saved the day. Saviour of All. Your knight in shining armour,” Harry countered sarcastically.

“You’re such a prick, Harry.”

“And you’re a self-conceited, self-centred, squealing bastard piece of shit.” Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned away from Draco who was, once again muttering insults under his breath. Harry couldn’t tell if they were directed at him or Slughorn. Probably both, he imagined.

Slughorn finally pulled himself together. “Now now, boys. No need to argue. And dear Harry; borrowing notes is perfectly acceptable. That can hardly be called cheating.” Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Now, all there is left is the testing.”

“What?” Harry and Draco said as one. Harry remembered Draco’s words about the dangers of testing such a potion. He had no idea what he most desired at this precise moment and he most certainly didn’t fancy a bunch of Slytherins there when he found out. Which he was bound to if he took the potion. He imagined tearing Slughorn’s stupid walrus moustache off and putting it on fire. That would probably not go down well.

“Well, dear boys, how can we possibly know if it truly _is_ an Anti-inhibitions Potion if we do not test it?” Slughorn asked. “A spoon full each if you will, gentlemen.” He passed them each a tablespoon.

Draco looked at Slughorn as if he had lost his mind. Which he most likely had. “Professor, this potion –“ (he pointed at their cauldron) “- is _extremely_ potent. Trust me: You won’t be able to stun us. If we start trashing the ingredients’ cupboard you won’t be able to stop us. Or if we decide to force feed the students and staff with this potion. It would wreak havoc. Or if I decide to kill Harry.” Harry turned around and glared at him.

“You’re thinking rather highly of yourself aren’t you?” Seamus said from the back of the classroom.

Draco turned around. “With good reason,” he snapped.

“Oh all right then. A teaspoon. We need to see if it really works or I won’t be able to grade it properly.” Then he addressed the rest of the class. “Look here, boys and girls. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are going to test their potion.” The other students stopped what they were doing. Slughorn chuckled as he stood in front of their workbench with his hands behind his back looking at them in anticipation.

“Don’t take more than a teaspoon, Harry,” Draco warned. “Though I doubt they’ll be able to petrify us anyway even on that amount.”

Sensing no way around it Harry dipped his spoon in the potion and measured out approximately a teaspoon. “Cheers,” he said and swallowed it.

Harry could feel something change inside him. In his head. He knew he had been nervous about taking the potion but now he had no idea why. There was nothing wrong with taking that potion. He felt amazing. He suddenly saw things clearly. He was still perfectly aware of everything that was going on around him – it just felt as if suddenly everything clicked into place and he knew what he must do. He turned to face his Potions partner, raised his fist and planted it firmly on his cheekbone. At the same time he felt a piercing pain in his shin and realised that Draco had kicked him there. Again. He was aware of rustling in the classroom as Hermione tried to petrify them, no doubt expecting another fight. Again. But, just as Draco had predicted, the spell didn’t work on them.

After having done the obligatory swearing and caressing their injured body parts, the two boys moved towards each other again, this time meeting in a tight embrace. Their lips met immediately in a heated kiss and they were practically devouring each other as they discarded of their robes.

Harry didn’t know why but kissing Draco Malfoy in the middle of the classroom seemed like the best idea in the world at the moment and there was no way he couldn’t do it.

Again he heard Hermione throw a Petrificus Totalus at them but it still didn’t work. Snickers and the occasional wolf whistle was heard around the classroom.

Their kiss grew more and more heated and they were both panting. As if by one mind, they started undoing each other’s ties, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor. They moved on to unbutton each other’s shirts. Somehow it just couldn’t happen fast enough and in the end Harry just tore at Draco’s shirt, making the buttons fly off in all directions. Draco seemed to think that was a brilliant idea, because not a moment later he did the same. They pulled back, studying each other. Harry reached out and touched Draco’s nipples with his thumbs making him moan. The sound made Harry’s cock twitch and he attacked Draco’s throat; kissing, sucking and biting it while eliciting the small whimpers from Draco that Harry so enjoyed. He occupied his hands sliding them up and down Draco’s sides and chest, occasionally flicking a nipple. Draco was standing with his head thrown back to give Harry as much room as possible to roam his neck. He was digging his fingers into Harry’s back under the shirt that was hanging loose from Harry’s shoulders and Harry delighted at the pain of Draco’s nails digging into his bare skin.

Harry was aware of several of the other students and Slughorn simultaneously trying to stupefy and petrify them. It still didn’t work. How could it, when there was no real reason to petrify them in the first place?

“Need you. Want you,” Harry growled into Draco’s ear and sucked in his earlobe.

“Yes,” Draco whimpered.

When they simultaneously began unbuckling each other’s belts, buttons and zippers, still kissing furiously, Harry registered a collective intake of breath from their fellow students and when they started working their hands up and down each other’s rock hard cocks, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, Harry heard Ron’s voice boom across the classroom.

“ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH! EVERYBODY OUT _NOW_.”

People started clearing out of the classroom sending the occasional Petrificus Totalus in their direction without effect.

It took an embarrassingly short while – only a few tugs – for Harry before he forcefully spilled into Draco’s hand. Luckily Draco followed suit not long after, spilling into Harry’s.

Harry wasn’t done, however, and after a few recreational breaths and a cleaning charm on his come covered hand he grabbed Draco’s shoulders, turned him around and bent him over the desk.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

“Yes,” Draco answered breathlessly, his cock already hardening again.

Harry sank to his knees and placed open mouthed kisses all over Draco’s bottom before he spread his arse cheeks apart and plunged in. He licked and sucked at Draco’s tight, delicious entrance, causing Draco to squirm, whimper and moan loudly.

“ _No, Harry, don’t_! _Stop_!” he heard Ron’s voice somewhere in the classroom, but since rimming Draco was the only right thing to do at that precise moment, of course he didn’t stop.

Draco was pushing his arse backwards, meeting Harry’s tongue. Harry pointed it and pushed it past the rim and into Draco. He then held Draco’s hips in a firm grip as he wriggled his tongue inside of him, as much as was possible due to the tight muscle.

Harry was vaguely aware of Ron shouting ‘stop, stop, stop’ in the background and shooting spell after spell at them but it couldn’t matter less.

Draco was keening and whimpering, moaning and groaning – the most erotic sounds Harry had ever heard. He needed Draco. Now. Needed to feel him around his cock. So Harry pulled out his tongue and stood up, replacing it with a finger. He added a second digit not long after, having already stretched Draco some with his tongue. He wriggled his fingers as Ginny had when she had done it to him.

“Oh _Merlin_. _Fuck_. Oh _shit_ ,” Draco exclaimed after a particular wriggle and Harry silently congratulated himself on having found the little bundle of nerves. He added a third finger. “Harry, fuck me,” Draco panted as he thrust back again and again, meeting Harry’s fingers.

“Yes,” Harry panted and started lining his cock up behind Draco.

“ _NOOOOO_ ,” Ron shouted and all but threw himself through the classroom, grabbing an empty cauldron from Slughorn’s desk and hammering it into first Harry’s and then Draco’s head, after which both boys fell unconscious to the floor, Draco slowly sliding off the desk.

 

“So…” Harry said as he was sitting in a bed in the hospital wing with a bandage around his head. Draco was sitting in the bed next to his wearing an identical bandage and looking as mortified and embarrassed as Harry felt.

“So…” Ron said.

“That was quite a show back there,” Parkinson said, grinning. Harry and Draco both scowled at her. “Well it was,” she continued and Blaise nodded, also grinning.

“I will have you know that I hate you both,” Draco said directed at his friends.

“We know, darling,” Parkinson answered and stroked his cheek, smiling at him fondly.

Harry scowled. “I hate Slughorn.”

Draco seconded.

At that moment the door to the hospital wing flew open and a concerned looking Ginny entered the room followed by Hermione. Ginny flung herself down on Harry’s bed and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

“Are you alright, Harry? What happened? Hermione wouldn’t tell me anything other than that you had an accident in Potions and you were in the hospital wing.”

“Um…” Harry began. He wondered if he could find some way around the truth. “I – we accidentally hit our heads on a cauldron,” he tried lamely. Apparently Ginny thought it sounded lame as well because she raised an eyebrow and looked to Ron and Hermione, who just looked worriedly at each other and didn’t answer her unspoken question.

“All right, I’ll tell her,” Parkinson said, looking way too gleeful. Ginny turned to look at Parkinson expectantly. “We were brewing an Anti-inhibitions potion and Potter and Draco finished first. Slughorn made them test it and they started practically ravishing each other.” Ginny raised her eyebrows and Harry covered his face with his hands, embarrassed beyond measure. “Yes, they kissed and touched and tore each other’s clothes off – it was _very_ hot by the way,” Parkinson continued delightedly.

“Enough, Pansy,” Draco said firmly but Parkinson continued, gesticulating wildly with her hands and making her voice sensual as if she were reading some steamy novel.

“And then they undid each other’s trousers and reached in and drew out each other’s cocks and started jerking each other off.” She took a moment to glare at Ron. “And that’s when Weasley forcefully threw us all out of the classroom.”

Ginny wasn’t looking concerned anymore. She was sitting up straight with her arms crossed and an angry look on her face. “Did you fuck?” she asked bluntly.

“ _No_ , of course not, Ginny,” Harry said firmly, removing his hands from his face.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“Well it’s true. Ask Ron. He was there.”

“You were there?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, and it’s true. They didn’t… you know,” Ron answered.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Why were you there?”

“I was trying to see if I could stop them. Distract them somehow.”

“And could you?”

“It didn’t seem like it, no. Couldn’t petrify them either.”

“Well you obviously didn’t try hard enough,” Ginny accused.

“I can assure you I tried hard,” Ron said angrily. “I don’t particularly enjoy seeing my best friend with his tongue up some other bloke’s arse.” He clasped his hands over his mouth as soon as he had said it and his eyes widened but, obviously, it was too late.

“ _What_?” Parkinson and Zabini shouted simultaneously. Parkinson covered her now giant grin with her hand and Zabini doubled over, laughing.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell anyone,” Draco fumed at Parkinson and Zabini who just laughed harder.

Hermione made an undefined sound and also covered her mouth with both hands. Harry couldn’t quite determine the look in her eyes but he was pretty sure a part of it was amusement. He made a note to punish her for it later.

“Oh god, _Ron_ ,” Harry groaned, blushing furiously before once again hiding his head in his hands.

Draco groaned, pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head on his knees, covering his head with his arms as much as possible.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to say it. This is horrible. It’s just like that time with Neville and the wanking incident,” Ron apologised, then immediately covered his mouth with both hands again.

“What wanking incident?” Parkinson asked immediately.

“My _god_ , Ron, would you _just_. _Stop_. _Talking_ ,” Harry pleaded, hands still covering his face, and Ron nodded without removing his hands from his mouth.

Harry dared a look at Ginny who was looking at him a little too sweetly. “Is it true, Harry? Did you have your tongue up his arse?” she asked. Harry nodded, hoping that he looked as guilty as he felt and that that might have a soothing effect on her. She stood up and looked at him. “And considering that it was an Anti-inhibition potion one might presume that up Malfoy’s arse was where you _wanted_ your tongue to be.”

“I –“ Harry didn’t have time to explain before she slapped him hard.

“ _Ginny_ ,” Ron said, outraged, and Hermione, eyes big, once again covered her mouth with her hands. Harry didn’t say anything but just watched her as she walked towards the door.

“Mini-Weasley. _Stop_ ,” Draco said loudly and Ginny turned around. “It wasn’t an Anti-inhibition potion.” Ginny raised her eyebrows. “It was a lust potion. I got the instructions wrong and added some of the ingredients in the wrong order. They’re closely related so it doesn’t take much. I was hoping Slughorn didn’t notice. I knew Harry certainly wouldn’t. I didn’t expect Slughorn to make us try it. We simply jumped the nearest person.”

“Are you lying to me, Malfoy?” Ginny asked, standing with her hands on her hips and looking disturbingly as Molly Weasley at her most threatening.

“No,” Draco said, seemingly not intimidated by her appearance. Even though Harry knew perfectly well that he _was_ lying.

“Because if you aren’t lying and you knew what was in the potion you practically forced yourself on my boyfriend,” Ginny said harshly.

“I didn’t _force_ him to do anything he didn’t want to do at the time,” Draco spat. “And do you know why? Because _I’m. Not. Like. You_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked as neither Harry nor Hermione had told him about Ginny’s conditions for forgiving him Friday night’s ‘episode’

Ginny stood for a while, her eyes shooting daggers at Draco. Then she turned and left.

“I should follow her and comfort her,” Zabini said and made to follow her.

“Do it and you’ll regret it, Zabini,” Harry said threateningly. Zabini looked satisfyingly uncomfortable and stayed where he was.

“A lust potion,” Ron said, looking relieved. “Well thank goodness for small miracles, eh Harry?” Harry nodded. “I’ll go after her. See you later, Harry.” Ron hurried out of the door to follow Ginny.

“How thick could you get?” Parkinson asked when Ron had left the room. Harry reluctantly had to agree with her, though he didn’t say so.

At that moment madam Pomfrey entered the room and ushered out the remaining visitors. She ran a few diagnostic spells to see if they had taken any significant damage to the head, which, luckily, none of them had. She informed them that they would have to stay the night in the hospital wing as they had been hit by an enormous amount of stunning spells, and even though they were immune at the time there was no saying if they would react badly to them once they allowed themselves to rest.

When Madam Pomfrey had left the room Harry glanced over to Draco. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that what you told Ginny might be true?” he asked hopefully. Draco just raised a brow, which clearly told Harry that no, there wasn’t any chance that it might be true. Then Draco lay down on his bed, rolled over so he had his back against Harry and went to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny's demands (among other Things) result in a nasty argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> I added a dub-con tag as there's a rather explicit dub-con scene in this chapter feat. Harry/Ginny, which may be offensive to some. It's about 6000 Words in and just after Harry and Draco's dare.
> 
> There's also an argument not long after that scene with a fair bit of explicit language.
> 
> I've added notes at the end of the chapter if you don't want to read it.
> 
> There - you have been warned. If it makes you oncomfortable; don't read it.
> 
> Also, I would like to apologise to Neville: 'I'm sorry, Neville - it just sort of happened.'

The morning after what Draco later chose to refer to as ‘the Potions incident’ he woke to the sounds of Pansy and Granger entering the hospital wing along with Madam Pomfrey. He groaned as he slowly remembered what had led to his stay there. Draco was disappointed to find that he remembered everything. He had hoped, when he went to sleep the night before, that he wouldn’t be able to remember anything at all. Or at the most a very little.

He opened his eyes in time to see Madam Pomfrey leave the room and slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples to suppress the headache that was beginning to manifest itself.

“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey said when she saw him rubbing his temples. “Your heads will most likely be quite sore for a few days still. I brought a pain relieving potion for each of you.” She handed Draco one and put the other on Harry’s bedside table next to his glasses. “You are going to stay here for the day,” she continued and it didn’t sound like a question. “If I am satisfied by noon that you are both acting normally you may return to your dorms but I will not have you join classes. Your professors have been notified. That was quite a beating you took to the head.”

Granger butted in. “Ron is very sorry he hit you so hard but he said he _really_ needed to stop you at that point.” She blushed and Draco wondered if Weasley had told her exactly why he _really_ needed to stop them.

“Actually, it was a stroke of genius to knock us unconscious, Granger,” Draco said. “If he _had_ been able to petrify us the potion could have just been petrified with us and then pick up where it left off when we were un-petrified. This way the potion just ran its course while we _weren’t_ able to… To do whatever it was that it wanted us to do.” He felt a blush creep up his neck and face and Pansy looked annoyingly intrigued.

“Oh,” Granger looked pleased. “I’ll tell him. He’ll be happy to know that he prevented you from doing whatever it was you were about to do.” There was a small smile on her lips and a glint in her eye and Pansy snickered. Bints.

“Yes, yes,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Miss Granger, Miss Parkinson, if you would be so good as to fetch some breakfast for them both.” She ushered them out and began bustling about, opening the curtains and windows to let in fresh air and running a few diagnostic spells on both of them. Then she closed the windows again and left the room.

As the doors closed Draco heard a groan from the bed next to him similar to the one he had made when he woke up. He saw Harry reach for his glasses and put them on before he studied the phial on the bedside table.

“It’s a pain relieving potion,” Draco informed him. “Madam Pomfrey said to take it if you still have a headache. Said we might be sore for a couple of days.”

Harry rubbed his eyes again and uncorked the phial. “It smells disgusting,” he said before chugging it down. He stretched and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty,” Draco answered and Harry groaned. “She told us to stay the rest of the day and rest. Granger and Pansy are going to bring up some breakfast. They came to check on us while you were still sleeping.”

Just then the door opened and Granger came in followed by Pansy. They were each carrying a breakfast-laden plate and a few books, which they passed to each boy. Draco’s consisted largely of bacon – bless the woman for knowing him so well. Pansy also brought a letter which she handed to Draco. “That owl of yours is an absolute menace,” she said and held her hand forward, revealing a deep scratch.

Draco looked at the scratch. “Did you try to stroke her?” Pansy nodded. “Well, then you brought it on yourself. Miss Bennett doesn’t let just anybody touch her.” Pansy scowled and mumbled something about stupid sensitive owls.

“Miss Bennett?” Granger asked. “As in Elisabeth Bennett from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice?”

Draco turned a slight shade of pink but then raised his chin defiantly. “Yes. However I prefer Jane Bennett. She is considerably more well-mannered than her sisters and has an aristocratic air around her. It was a way of silent rebellion if you must know, after my father killed my first owl. I also have a house elf named Bilbo.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head a little as if daring Granger to make a snide remark. She didn’t but merely looked surprised.

“I don’t know who any of these creatures are,” Pansy said indifferently. “Anyway, enough small talk. Let’s go, Granger, or we’ll be late for class.” They both stood to leave and dashed towards the door.

“Hermione wait, I need to talk to you,” Harry called after her.

“Sorry, Harry, didn’t catch that. See you some time,” Granger said, even though Draco was absolutely certain that she _had_ heard him. And he was also absolutely certain why she pretended not to have heard.

“She’s avoiding me.”

“It would seem so,” Draco said and started on his pile of bacon.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Harry said, fidgeting and concentrating on his plate.

Draco looked up, surprised at Harry’s apology. “That wasn’t you’re fault.”

“I attacked you,” Harry continued. “I violated you. If Ron hadn’t stopped us I would have… And I’m really, really sorry.”

“Harry. You were under the influence of a mind altering substance. So was I. And I attacked you, too. Apparently you are just the more dominant of the two of us.”

“I guess so,” Harry said hesitantly.

They sat in silence for a while, eating their breakfast until Harry began fidgeting with a piece of toast. Draco sighed and looked at him.

“What is it that you want to say, Harry?”

“Um… I just… It’s… I was wondering, um…”

“Yes?”

“Well, what was it like?”

Draco blushed and cleared his throat. “I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific.” In Draco’s opinion there had been several things that were relevant to ask that question about.

And now Harry blushed. Fiercely. “Um, you know, with the, you know… With the tongue.”

“Oh. Um… Why do you want to know?” Draco asked.

“Well you asked me what it was like that night, you know. On the bed. And I haven’t asked Ginny and I only know what it feels like from the… the other end.”

“Oh. Well… It – it was nice. It was good. It was very, very good.” No way was Draco going to tell Harry that he was pretty sure Harry could have made him come by just doing that.

“Okay,” Harry said and went back to focusing on his breakfast, looking embarrassed.

Having finished his bacon Draco opened his letter and started reading. After a while he looked up. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“What is a TV”

“It’s a sort of box that shows live images,” Harry answered, looking surprised by the question.

“Like a photo?”

“No, it shows different kinds of shows – like cooking programmes and wild life documentaries and the news and the weather and such.”

“Like a newspaper?”

“Well, sort of but with real people. And they talk.”

“How do they get the people in the box?”

“They don’t,” Harry said and explained something about radio waves and recording. Gibberish really. “Why do you ask?”

“My mother bought one, apparently.” Draco gestured at the letter still in his hand. “I think she took it to heart when I told her you said she could redecorate. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Harry said, smiling. “How did she get it? I refuse to believe that she went into muggle London and bought one by herself.”

Draco laughed. “Arthur Weasley helped her,” Draco said and Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” Draco nodded. “He also helped her install it using magic along with Auror Shacklebolt as it is apparently attached to a string that needs to go into a hole in the wall and most wizarding houses don’t have those.”

Harry was about to ask how on earth she had got them to do that when he remembered Arthur Weasley’s fondness for anything muggle.

“I’m glad they helped her,” Harry said.

“Me too,” Draco said. “She has a way with people. Men in particular.” He smiled a small smile at the letter, thinking fondly of his mother’s ability to get along with just about anyone. If she wanted to.

 “She seems very fond of that Shacklebolt. Calls him Kingsley in her letters now. Although she is also quite smitten with your mother in law.” Harry’s eyebrows made their way further up his forehead. Draco couldn’t blame him. “I know,” he said, referring to Harry’s surprised look. “Mrs. Weasley is apparently trying to teach her how to cook. Mostly basics – I don’t think Mother will ever want or be able to cook a full meal. So far she has mastered the art of tea and toast.” Harry’s jaw dropped again at the revelation that Draco’s mother was receiving cooking lessons. From a Weasley no less. Draco was looking at the letter again, smiling.

“Does the TV show movies too?” he asked.

“Movies?”

“You know, like theatre shows.”

“I know what movies are. How do you know about movies? And yes, they do.”

“Granger told me,” Draco explained.

“When?” Harry asked curiously.

“When we were spying on Weasley,” he said without thinking, then snapped his mouth shut, eyes widening, as he realised what he had said.

“You were spying on Ron?” Harry asked and Draco was happy that, for once, he had called the Weaselette ‘Weasley’.

“Uh… Yes, we were,” Draco said.

“Why?” Harry asked, looking genuinely confused.

“Granger… Granger said that she was afraid Weasley was having a fling with that shrill, annoying blonde girl – you know the floosy from your house he was licking tonsils with last year,” Draco improvised and Harry nodded. “Turned out he wasn’t. At least not that we saw.”

“Do you think that’s why Hermione won’t talk to me?” Harry asked. “Because she thinks I’ll get angry that she followed Ron?”

“Could be,” Draco said. “Hey, I was going to ask you: Does this mean we’re talking again?” he diverted the conversation.

“I guess it does,” Harry said, looking pleased.

 

They were released at noon after Weasley (the male one) and Blaise had brought them lunch. Draco was happy not to have to go to the Great Hall, not knowing who knew what and all.

“So, um, how’s Ginny?” Harry asked his friend quietly.

“She’ll come round,” Weasley said. “Both Hermione and I talked to her. Hermione has been trying to convince her that it really was a lust potion and not an Anti-inhibition potion.” At Harry’s guilty, questioning look Weasley added: “Yeah, I kind of figured out it wasn’t. I guess I just hoped it was.” Harry looked down with a small ‘oh’. “But I actually think Hermione managed to convince Ginny that it’s possible with all her technical terms and books and charts and all that. Now she just has to be convinced that there really was an accident with the potions and that Malfoy didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Hey,” Draco interjected. “I resent that.”

Weasley looked at him apologetically. “Yeah, well, apparently _someone_ -” he looked pointedly at Harry, “-has been talking wonders about your ‘immense and amazing potions skills’,” (Harry blushed and Draco tried to hide his surprise at the revelation) “and she has a hard time believing that you didn’t do it on purpose to get the chance to… You know… do what you were about to do.” Both Draco and Harry blushed.

Blaise looked from one to the other. “What _did_ you do? It’s not fair he knows and you won’t tell me.”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Harry and Draco said at the same time.

Blaise eyed Draco suspiciously. “I’ll get it out of you eventually.” Draco scowled at him.

“Anyway,” Weasley continued, “Hermione is trying to backtrack your process on the potion and see if she can find two plausible ingredients to have been swapped during one of your fights.”

“Why are you helping me lie to Ginny, Ron?” Harry asked, quite reasonably, Draco thought.

“I spoke to Hermione.” He looked pointedly at Draco and Draco thought he had a pretty clear feeling what that chat had involved. “She made me see that Ginny is acting a bit hysterical. And paranoid. And I don’t want to see her hurt. And I also don’t want to see you hurt. This way the hurt will be minimal to you both.” Then he added pensively: “Well, there’ll always be the knowledge that you were seconds away from putting your cock in another man’s arse per request, but I guess that can’t be helped.”

“Ooohh,” Blaise said and snickered. Draco glared at him.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed at Blaise who just kept on snickering.

“Thank you, Ron,” Harry said sarcastically as Weasley (again) covered his mouth with his hands, blushing and looking mortified. “Merlin, you’re worse than Seamus. I really hope you haven’t told her that.” Weasley shook his head. “Good. Well if you see her could you ask her to come by the common room tonight? I’d really like to see her. And tell her – tell her I’ll do those things I told her on Tuesday that I wouldn’t. I’ll do it.” Weasley nodded and Draco just shook his head. He knew very well what it was that Harry agreed to do. Stupid bastard.

“I will,” Weasley agreed. He hesitated and then added, “I’ve told her she should stop acting paranoid about Malfoy,” he said as if Draco wasn’t in the room. “She thinks he’s using you somehow, but I’ve told her he’s really not so bad and that you _are_ just friends.” That surprised Draco. Apparently it surprised Harry too.

At Harry’s look of surprise Weasley explained: “Hermione told me some stuff that made me realise he probably isn’t so bad.” He turned his head to look at Draco. “Turns out you’re not so bad after all.” Weasley gave him a small, albeit strained and a little bit forced smile.

“I’m going to stop calling you Weasel. And Weaselby,” Draco announced after an awkward pause, just to show that he, too, could show some goodwill. “But I still think you’re ugly.”

“Thank you. I guess,” Weasley said, visibly surprised. “Not for the ugly-part.” Draco nodded graciously.

When they had all finished their lunch Madam Pomfrey sent Weasley and Blaise to their respective afternoon classes and did her final check-over. She sent them away with an order to go straight to their dorms and take as long a nap as they could.

*

When they got back to the common room Ginny was standing outside the portrait hole.

“Can I come in?” she asked as Draco said the password (‘Valiant Sir Siegfried, the bravest knight of all’). Harry beckoned for her to enter, bid Draco a good nap and entered his dorm with Ginny.

“Ginny, I –“ he began.

“Harry, wait. I just want to let you know that I trust you,” Ginny said to Harry’s surprise. “Hermione convinced me that it is entirely possible that the potion was a lust potion and she told me that Slughorn practically forced you both to take it. I’m sorry I reacted so poorly.”

That did nothing to soothe Harry’s guilty conscience but he thought it better not to tell her the truth. For now at least. “I’m sorry too, Ginny.”

“I really care about you and I don’t want to jeopardise our relationship by acting like a cow. A mad cow. And I’m glad you’ll try those things – Ron told me.” (Harry cringed), “It really means a lot to me. But let’s just take it slow, yeah? If that makes it easier for you. I know I can be demanding and a little unreasonable sometimes, but I want to try to make us work. I’ll try to accept that for some reason you’re friends with – and attracted to – Malfoy, though I must admit I can’t stand the sight of him.”

“Ginny, what happened?” Harry asked. “Yesterday you were ready to explode. I am nearly willing to bet that you would have hexed or cursed the both of us if there hadn’t been any witnesses.”

“Hermione gave me a talking to. She explained to me all the different ways that potion could go wrong and seeing as you have had several fights during Potions I have to admit that it is likely it was an accident.”

Harry was trying to wrap his head around Ginny’s sudden mood change. “Madam Pomfrey ordered us to nap,” he said, sensing a budding headache. He was glad they were talking – constructive talking even – but he needed to sleep. He lay down on his bed on his side and closed his eyes.

“A nap sounds good.” Ginny smiled and joined him. She lay down in front of him and he wrapped his arm around her so he was spooning her and they fell asleep together – clothes on and curtains open.

The evening presented another game of truth or dare and Harry found himself sitting in the circle with Ginny sitting next to him, her arm around his waist and head resting on his shoulder, and his arm draped over her shoulder. It nearly felt odd with this sort of affection that wasn’t a result of just having shagged or being about to.

His headache had subsided after a long nap and though it might not be the choice Madam Pomfrey would have encouraged he deemed himself well enough to join the game.

The game proceeded as usual with the dares becoming racier and racier as the evening progressed and more and more alcohol was consumed. The general nature of the dares had also changed during the course of the last weeks since the 7th year students had first begun playing.

So really, Harry shouldn’t have been surprised when Draco was dared by Ernie MacMillan to give Harry a blowjob.

He felt Ginny tense up next to him as he stared at Draco sitting across the circle. Draco’s eyes were wide open and his mouth snapped shot. A pink tinge slowly crept its way from Draco’s neck and spread to his face. Harry thought that he most likely looked the same.

He looked at Ginny who had released her grip on him and was sitting up straight now. “Would you like me to refuse the dare, Ginny?” he asked, concerned and completely willing to do it if she wanted him to.

She shook her head and smiled softly. “No. It’s okay.”

He nodded and looked across the circle again at Malfoy who was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Harry looked around the circle at his fellow 7th years. Some – though surprisingly few – looked uncomfortable (Ron most of all, Harry thought), some looked curious and intrigued (Harry was annoyed to find that Hermione was one of them) and some looked downright excited.

“Well get on with it,” Seamus piped up.

“I think I’ve asked you this before, Seamus,” Harry snapped, “but whose side are you on anyway?”

“Entertainment’s,” Seamus answered with a grin.

Harry took another look around the circle, poured a shot of firewhiskey and then another one. “Fine,” he said and got up. “Are you coming?” He looked at Draco who had turned from pink to pale – even more so than usual.

Draco cleared his throat. “You’re not going to refuse?”

“No. Not unless Ginny asks me to. Are you going to refuse?” Harry felt a little flicker of hope. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t like to get his cock sucked by Draco. (And that thought was disturbing in itself.) It was more the fact that everybody in the room would know what they were doing. Most of their peers were luckily blissfully unaware that they had been seconds from… ‘ _that_ ’ during their little Potions mishap and assumed all it had come to was a hand job. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough. Plus, it was an entirely different thing to be doing something like that under the influence of a very powerful potion and to be doing it in public. Well, not public. But as good as.

“No way,” Draco said. “I remember almost having to carry you to the forest on that detention.”

“You could always pick the neon writing,” Harry argued.

“I’m not going to blemish my skin like that. Besides, I don’t particularly feel like serving detention seven nights in a row.”

“Okay then, come on. We can use the Gryffindor dorm.”

“Right.” As Draco had been dared to suck off Harry it was Draco’s turn to set a dare. After having dared Ernie (obviously) to put on a pair of frilly thongs (generously offered by Parkinson) for the rest of the evening he got up and followed Harry. Before they entered he turned around just as both Hermione and Parkinson were raising their wands.

“Okay with the sparks-thing, Granger, but Pansy; do it and I’ll snap your wand.” He looked at her warningly and she immediately lowered her wand.

“Smart thinking,” Harry said as he sat down on his bed.

“Yes, well…” Draco trailed off. He sat down on Harry’s bed and cleared his throat. “So…”

“Yeah. This is awkward.”

“Agreed.” Draco was fidgeting and looking anywhere but at Harry. “Obviously I’ve never done this before so I don’t quite know what to do.”

“Well, seeing as I haven’t either I can’t really give you any pointers.”

“Right, of course. How does the We – mini Weasley – do it and I’ll try to do that.”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “I’d rather you didn’t. She kind of sucks at it,” he admitted. Then he felt guilty for telling Draco and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Draco snickered. “Sucks.”

Harry joined in and it helped ease the mood. “Okay then. Do what feels good to you then.”

Draco didn’t answer at first but then, to Harry’s surprise, turned to look at him, smirking. “You know, seeing as we are on speaking terms again I expect you to have also take on your role as my minion again –“ Harry raised an eyebrow, curious as to where this was going, “- and as my minion it would only be fair if you were to do it to me instead of vice versa.”

Harry laughed. “And I who thought I was minion to a gracious lord. Not going to happen. I will, however, toss you off in return. You know, being a good minion and all.”

Draco made a deep sigh. “I guess that will have to do then.”

They sat for a while still, both pondering how to start. In the end Harry made a decision. Just to ease the mood. He leaned in and latched on to Draco’s neck, sucking the skin lightly. Draco stiffened at the unexpected touch. After the initial surprise he relaxed and tilted his head to the side, giving Harry freer access.

Harry worked his way from Draco’s collarbone up his neck to suck at the soft and sensitive skin just behind his earlobe. Draco moaned softly as Harry worked his way along his jaw and chin to finally land on his lips.

Harry massaged Draco’s lips with his and let his tongue enter Draco’s mouth. Draco returned the kiss with vigour and they both shifted in their seats on Harry’s bed, turning towards each other to deepen the kiss.

Harry’s stomach fluttered as Draco raised his hand and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry used one hand to support his weight on the bed as he leaned closer towards Draco, placing his other hand on Draco’s knee and sliding it upwards slowly to rest on his hip.

He slid his hand lower again towards Draco’s groin and let it rest on his inner thigh. He then moved his hand up to cup Draco’s erection and squeezed it lightly. Draco moaned softly into Harry’s mouth and in a swift movement moved to straddle Harry, cupping his head in his hands and practically devouring him.

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat as he felt Draco’s erection pressing against his own. He grabbed Draco’s arse, squeezing his buttocks tightly, eliciting a whimper. Harry found Draco’s whimpers incredibly erotic.

He broke the kiss and instead began placing kisses along Draco’s jaw. Draco tilted his head up and the Gryffindor kissed, licked and sucked his way up and down Draco’s throat while unbuttoning the blonde’s shirt. When it was fully undone Harry pulled back a bit to savour the sight of Draco’s naked torso. He traced the lines of the scars he had put there gently with his fingers, making the other boy shiver.

Draco pulled at the hem of Harry’s T-shirt. Harry raised his arms over his head and Draco pulled it off and threw it on the bed.

When Harry raised a hand and began tracing Draco’s collarbone with his thumb Draco gasped and began rolling his hips, grinding the hardness of his cock against Harry’s.

“You’re going to have to stop,” Harry said breathlessly after a couple of minutes’ snogging and grinding. “I’ll come if you don’t.”

Draco let out a mewling, disappointed sound and moved back a bit so their crotches weren’t pressed together.

They looked at each other, eyes glazed. Harry leaned in and carefully flicked Draco’s nipple with his tongue, yet again earning a delicious whimper from Draco. Harry sucked on his nipple, occasionally grazing the little nub with his teeth, while Draco was holding on tightly to both Harry’s shoulders.

Harry let his hands graze Draco’s stomach as they made their way to his belt which he quickly unfastened. He opened Draco’s trousers and took hold of his buttocks once more and pushed upwards, making Draco lift himself slightly from Harry’s lap. He then pulled at Draco’s trousers and boxers as much as was possible in their current position and managed to pull the trousers down over his buttocks and freed his cock.

Draco gasped as Harry ran his thumb over the head and started stroking it slowly while still sucking and nibbling on Draco’s nipple. He moved both hands to rest in Harry’s hair, pulling his head even closer to his chest, arching his back, and Harry took it as an invitation to properly suck on his nipple as if snogging it. He moved the hand that wasn’t currently busy up to pinch and twist Draco’s other nipple while stroking his cock at a steadily increasing speed.

Draco hadn’t sat back down again but was standing on his knees, still straddling Harry and thrusting into the Gryffindor’s fist while still holding on tightly to his head, pressing it into his chest. After a couple of minutes Draco increased the tempo of his thrusts further still until, with a cry, he came hard into Harry’s fist and on his chest.

When his orgasm subsided he batted Harry’s hand away. Harry dried his hand on the bed covers and grabbed the T-shirt lying next to him to wipe the come off his chest and stomach. Draco sat back on Harry’s thighs, panting and rested his forehead on Harry’s.

“Okay. I’m ready,” he said. “Lie down.” He pushed Harry backwards on the bed and bent over him to kiss him.

Draco kissed his way down Harry’s throat, chest and stomach until he reached his belt. He quickly unbuckled it, unbuttoned Harry’s trousers and pulled them down along with his shorts so they were in a pool around his ankles. Harry kicked them off completely and toed off his socks as Draco stood and with surprising ease pulled at Harry’s legs until his arse was resting on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor.

“You know,” Harry said, “for someone so slender you are freakishly strong.”

Draco didn’t answer but stood still, his eyes focused on Harry’s cock. “Fuck,” he whispered. He licked his lips and Harry’s cock twitched at the sight and the thought that in a very short time those pink, full lips would be wrapped around his cock.

Draco grabbed Harry’s knees and parted his legs. He positioned himself between Harry’s legs, running his fingertips from his hips and along his inner thighs, making Harry gasp. He cupped Harry’s balls and gave them a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from Harry. Then he cleared his throat and leaned in.

Harry could feel his breath brush over the head of his cock. He opened his eyes and looked down at Draco through his eyelashes.

Draco looked up, meeting Harry’s gaze. Holding eye contact he placed a tentative lick on the head. Harry shivered and made a whimpering sound which seemed to give Draco confidence. He smirked and licked Harry’s cock with the flat part of his tongue from base to tip, still looking Harry in the eyes. Harry gasped and let his head fall back on the mattress.

Draco sucked in Harry’s cock slowly, hollowing his cheeks, taking it halfway down. He removed his mouth to lick his hand which he placed at the base of Harry’s cock.

He swirled his tongue around the glans and gradually moved his mouth lower and lower while still swirling his tongue. When his lips met his hand he moved his mouth up again, once more hollowing his cheeks and stroking the shaft, making a small twist with his hand.

Harry moaned. This was so much better than anything Ginny had ever been able to do. Harry was grasping the sheets, clenching and unclenching his fists. He tried to keep from thrusting but it was difficult. Eventually Draco placed his other arm across Harry’s hips to keep him from thrusting into his mouth.

Harry tilted his head and looked down at Draco again. The sight of his lips stretched over Harry’s thick cock made Harry groan with pleasure and he let go of the sheets and planted both his hands firmly in Draco’s silky soft hair, pulling at it gently.

Draco removed his arm from Harry’s hips allowing him to thrust upwards as he moved his mouth and hand faster and sucking harder, and Harry felt the pressure begin to build.

Suddenly the heat of Draco’s mouth was gone and Harry made a desperate whimper at the loss. He looked down at Draco, pleading with his eyes.

“Move up a bit and place your feet on the mattress. Bend your legs up to your chest and keep them there,” Draco ordered and Harry immediately complied, hooking his hands in the back of his knees.

Draco leaned in and placed a lick on Harry’s balls before sucking each of them into his mouth. He licked his way over Harry’s perineum and Harry writhed on the bed. Draco placed his hands on Harry’s buttocks and parted them. He used one of his thumbs to massage Harry’s tight entrance lightly before he dove in and licked the puckered hole.

Harry made sobbing sounds of pleasure as Draco started licking in earnest. He pointed his tongue and prodded at Harry’s hole with it until he managed to enter him. Harry thrust back onto Draco’s tongue, keening and whimpering. He had been curious as to what rimming felt like from the receiving end. Now he knew. It was fucking amazing.

Draco placed his hands on the back of Harry’s thighs, pushing them up further against his chest, and worked his tongue – wiggling it and thrusting as best he could, all the while groaning and moaning into Harry’s tight heat.

After a while of Draco tongue-fucking Harry he replaced his tongue with two fingers, the entrance made easier by saliva. Making sure he wasn’t hurting Harry, Draco began finger-fucking him, carefully at first and then harder and faster as he kissed, licked and nibbled his way up Harry’s shaft again.

Harry felt near tears at the sensation of Draco’s fingers thrusting into him as he sucked Harry while stroking his shaft with his free hand. He felt the pressure building up again and batted at Draco’s head, a little too late, to warn him just as Draco’s fingers hit his prostate, sending sparks through his body and pushing him over the edge, coming hard into Draco’s mouth.

Draco pulled back with a splutter, still stroking Harry’s cock. “Merlin, Harry, a little bit of warning next time.”

“Sorry.” Harry couldn’t help laughing. He was panting and still lying on the bed with a sated smile. “That was…”

Draco was still spluttering and trying to get rid of the taste of Harry’s sperm. He had sat himself on the edge of Harry’s bed and, giving up on getting rid of the taste, turned to look at Harry who was still laughing and smiling goofily.

“Good?” Draco asked smirking.

“I’d say,” Harry answered, smiling. He sat up. “You’re a natural.”

“Of course. I’m good at everything.” Draco lifted his chin.

Harry chuckled. “Especially modesty,” he said fondly and grinned. “What was it like?”

“Well the taste was odd, although it wasn’t as disgusting as I’d imagined. It mostly tasted like it did that time in the cupboard, only a bit more concentrated. Generally, it actually wasn’t bad,” Draco admitted. “I’d even go so far as to say that I can see how some people actually enjoy doing it.”

At that comment Harry looked down and saw Draco’s tenting trousers. He smiled and leaned towards Draco. “I can’t let you leave my dorm with a hard-on. You know; public service and all.” And he took hold of Draco’s cock and stroked it while sucking his neck and collarbone until he emptied himself into Harry’s hand for the second time that evening.

They both got their clothes in order and Harry put on a new T-shirt as the old one had been used to wipe off come. Before they left the dorm Harry had to suppress the urge to pull Draco into a hug and kiss him. Instead he opened the door to Draco who walked into the common room and joined the circle of students again.

Harry took his seat next to Ginny and put his arm around her, giving her a reassuring squeeze. She responded by leaning in and resting her head on Harry’s shoulder.

Sitting next to her, Harry wasn’t able to see the murderous glares she sent in Draco’s direction.

The game went on and Harry was pleased that he did not receive any dares for a long time. He was less pleased that Ginny seemed to feature in a lot of dares – mainly kissing but there was also one blowjob with Zabini (again) that Ginny agreed to a little too eagerly for Harry’s taste. He was not at all pleased when Greengrass dared him:

“I dare you to give female Weasley an orgasm –“ Harry couldn’t help rolling his eyes at such a lame dare, “- in the common room.” Harry’s mouth dropped open. “And she gets to decide how.”

When Harry’s initial outrage had subsided he looked at Ginny. “Would you like me to refuse, Ginny?”

“No of course not,” Ginny answered. “Why on earth would you? It’s me.”

“Yeah, but… in the common room? Everybody will be able to see it.”

“I know,” she said, leering. “It’s kind of hot isn’t it?”

“No, not really.”

“Well you’re going to do it anyway. I’m fine with it and if you refuse it will only be because of your own prudish tendencies.”

Harry hesitated. He wasn’t really keen on doing it. Exactly the opposite actually, because even if he had admitted to himself that it was somewhat exciting knowing that someone was watching, it was completely different to be doing stuff in front of a bunch of other students on purpose.

“Fine,” he said finally. “How do you want it?”

“Fuck me,” Ginny answered. The entire common room was quiet except for Ron’s groan.

“Not going to happen.”

“All right. Then go down on me

“No. I’ll finger you but no more than that.”

“She said I get to decide,” Ginny said and gestured towards Greengrass.

“Take it or leave it,” Harry said.

“I’ll tell you what. You finger me –“ (Harry let out a sigh of relief) “- _and_ you do those things we talked about.”

Harry blanched. “Ginny, please. I can’t.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll do it, Harry. You owe me. You told Ron to tell me you’d do it. So be a _fucking_ man and do it.”

He looked her in the eyes. “Is it really what you want?”

“Yes, Harry. Please.” She looked at him determinedly.

“Okay. But tell them it’s consensual.” He gestured at the group of students looking at them in anticipation. No-one had ever had to do anything in the common room before besides kissing and a bit of fondling. “Tell them that everything I’m going to do is consensual.”

Ginny beamed at him but Harry found it hard to return her smile and his attempt only turned into a grimace of sorts. She stood up and looked at the people sitting in the circle. “It’s all consensual and if I ask him to stop, he will.”

Harry took a look around the circle, finding curious looks on most of them. Except the people who already knew what she was talking about: Hermione who was looking sad, Ron who was hiding his face in his hands, Neville who was looking down, frowning, Dean who was blushing furiously and Draco whose eyes were shooting daggers at Ginny.

They both stood up and moved away from the circle a bit. They stood facing each other uncomfortably for a while. Harry shook his arms and hands as if warming up to an exercise.

“Well get on with it,” Ginny said and Harry slapped her as softly as possible while still being able to pass as a slap. The other students gasped and Harry squirmed uncomfortably. “Is that the best you can do?” Ginny mocked. “Put some force in it.” Harry slapped her again, a little bit harder and winced as his palm touched her cheek.

Ginny stomped her foot and stood with her hands on her hips. “Harry, honestly, just do it.” When he didn’t move but merely stood fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt she looked at him pleadingly. “Harry, _please_. I _need_ this.”

And Harry raised his hand high and slapped her with all the force he could manage. He watched his hand in slow motion as he slammed it to Ginny’s cheek, the force of it taking her by surprise and making her fall to the floor where she landed on her side with her hair covering her face. He heard shrieks and gasps and a few ‘Merlin’s and ‘oh my god’s from the group of people behind him.

“Oh my god, Ginny, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He kneeled down next to her with his back to the other students and bent over her, stroking her hair.

She batted his hand away and pushed the hair out of her face. Harry covered his mouth with his hand in shock as he saw the redness spread on her cheek. “Don’t fall out of character, Harry – we’re not done.” At his still concerned look she reached out and cupped his cheek. “I loved it, Harry. Don’t worry. Now continue.” She shifted on the floor so she was lying on her back with her eyes closed.

Reassured that she was okay, the crowd fell silent.

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. He _really_ didn’t want to do this but he _had_ promised her. And he _did_ owe her. So he took another deep breath, blocked out all the other people in the room and pretended to be someone else. Like Snape.

The initial shock from the other people in the common room when Harry had slapped Ginny had subsided and had been taken over by an impressive silence that made Harry pretty sure that no matter how low his voice was they would still be able to hear him. He discarded the thought and slipped into character.

Harry sat back on his heels and straightened his back. “Look at me, Ms. Weasley,” he said in a low, demanding voice, looking down at her. Ginny turned her head slightly and looked at him and smirked. He didn’t smile or smirk back. “Wipe that smirk off your face,” he said with a sneer. He saw the lust in her face as she stopped smirking.

“Pull down your knickers,” he said, his voice still low and demanding, and Ginny did so immediately, pushing them over her knees and shaking them off.

“You will answer me when I give you an order,” he continued.

“Yes.”

“Yes, _professor_ ,” Harry corrected, wincing on the inside.

“Yes, professor,” Ginny said and moaned lightly.

“Now lift up your shirt and pull down the bra cups,” he continued and Ginny followed his instructions.

“Yes, professor.”

“Touch yourself.” And Ginny did. She moved one hand down between her legs and, covered by her skirt began rubbing her clit. Her other hand moved up to massage one of her breasts and Harry let his fingertips on the hand closest to her head trace her throat and collarbone.

“Lift up your skirt and finger yourself. Two fingers.” Ginny hesitated. Harry didn’t know whether it was because she was genuinely hesitant to let the rest of their peers see her after all (Harry hoped it was), or if she wanted to see how he would react if she didn’t oblige. “It wasn’t a request, Ms. Weasley,” he said and let the hand currently tracing her collarbone slide upwards up her throat to squeeze around her neck, his thumb resting on the pulse point. “You wanted them to see. So let them see.”

“Yes, professor. Harder,” Ginny whimpered as she pulled up her skirt and bent her legs, inserting two fingers while still rubbing her clit. Harry squeezed harder around her throat and Ginny gasped.

“You are not in a position to make demands, Ms. Weasley. Do I need to start deducting points?” Harry’s voice was still low and calm. A lot calmer than he felt. Which wasn’t calm at all. Ginny shook her head. Harry looked at her with a sneer. “Look at you.” He looked down on her fingers still busy in her cunt. “So desperate for attention that you have to get off in the middle of the common room with twenty people watching. It turns you on to have other people watching you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, professor.” Ginny moaned and bit her lower lip.

“It turns you on that other people can see and hear you desperate with want, just begging for release, doesn’t it you fucking whore?” There was a collective intake of breath in the common room at those words.

“Yes, professor” she said.

“You enjoy being belittled and dominated, don’t you? Being treated like the slut you are.”

Ginny moaned.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t hear that,” Harry said and squeezed just a little harder around her neck.

“Yes, professor” Ginny croaked and Harry released his grip a fair bit.

If Harry had looked over his shoulder he would have seen twenty or so students gaping and staring at the couple in surprise, amazement, horror and shock. As it was he didn’t, because he knew that if he slipped out of character just a little he wouldn’t be able to continue.

“Remove your hands,” he demanded and Ginny moved both her hands from her nether regions up to massage her breasts.

“I did not permit you to touch yourself in other places, Ms. Weasley,” Harry said. “Put your hands on the floor and don’t move them until I allow you to or you will feel the consequences of disobedience.”

“Yes, professor. I’m sorry, professor.”

Harry moved his own free hand downwards. “Part your legs further.” Legs still bent she lowered them to rest on the floor in a sort of lying down Lotus Position.

“Excellent, Ms. Weasley,” Harry said. “Ten points to Gryffindor.” Ginny whimpered. “You may touch your breast with one hand.” Ginny’s hand immediately flew to her breast and began kneading it and twisting the nipple between her fingers.

Harry slowly lowered his hand further and brushed over her clit with his index and middle finger as he slid down and dipped three fingers into her warm, wet cunt. He pulled out his fingers and moved them up close to Ginny’s face for her to see. He parted his fingers, showing off the slippery essence that coated his index, middle and ring finger.

“Look at my fingers, Ms. Weasley. Look at how wet they are you slut.” Ginny looked at his fingers and licked her lips. “Open up.” Ginny opened her mouth and Harry pushed in his fingers, ordering her to suck them. Ginny moaned around his fingers and twirled her tongue around them until they were clean. As she licked his fingers Harry released his grip on her throat and began kneading Ginny’s other breast, pinching her nipple hard. He concentrated not to focus on the red marks that were faintly visible around her neck.

Harry moved his hand down again and thrust three fingers in to her. He placed his hand so her clit was being rubbed by the part of his hand between his thumb and index finger every time he thrust into her. Ginny started moving her hips, meeting his thrusts.

“This is the part where you want me to call you a whore, isn’t it?” Harry asked and Ginny whimpered ‘yes professor’ in consent. “You want me to tell you that you’re a fucking slut. That you’re a useless cunt. That you’re nothing other than a worthless hole to fuck.” After every statement was a ‘yes professor’ accompanied by a whimper or moan from Ginny, confirming that that was indeed what she wanted Harry to tell her.

He thrust in harder, pulling back his arm and pushing it forwards, slamming his fingers into her. Ginny panted louder. She had closed her eyes and was thrashing on the floor.

Harry could sense that she was close. “And do you know why you want me to tell you those things, Ms. Weasley?”

“No professor,” she panted.

Harry leaned down to her ear. “It’s because they’re true.” As he said it he moved the hand kneading her breast up to squeeze her neck again and pounded his fingers into her, keeping them in and moving them inside of her as he rubbed her clit fast with his thumb. “Now come.”

At those words, the feeling of Harry’s hand squeezing her throat and the sensation of his fingers moving inside her and rubbing her clit, Ginny came hard. With a loud cry she arched her back and constricted around his fingers.

Several ‘oh my god’s could be heard among the other students but Harry was still shutting out background noise and didn’t hear.

He removed his hand from Ginny’s throat, pulled out his fingers and wiped them on his T-shirt. He took in the sight of his girlfriend lying on the floor panting and flushed with a hand print on her cheek, red marks around her throat and a sated smile on her lips. Gradually he realised what had just happened. He hurriedly pulled up Ginny’s bra cups and pulled down her shirt and skirt so she was no longer exposed to the other students. He then scooted several feet backwards and sat cross legged with his hands supporting his forehead and his elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh god,” he said, shaking his head and rocking back and forth. “Oh god oh god oh god.”

Ginny sat up and looked at him with a concerned look on her face. “Harry, are you alright?” she asked.

To his embarrassment Harry felt his eyes sting and was glad that he had his back to the crowd. He was _so_ not alright. He reached up and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.

Ginny quickly moved over to him and ran her hand through his hair. Then she batted his arms and hands out of the way, straddled him and put her arms around his neck. She pushed at the back of his head with her hand, urging him to rest his head in the crook of her neck.

Harry threw his arms around her waist and held her tight, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, sniffling and blinking back the stupid, treacherous, pathetic, girly tears that threatened to leave his eyes.

Harry drew ragged breaths as Ginny held him close, rocking them back and forth and making soothing noises into his hair, occasionally placing a kiss on top of his head as she nuzzled his hair with one hand and stroked his back with the other.

“I will never ever do that again,” Harry said, his voice thick and muffled by her neck.

“I know, honey, I know,” Ginny said softly. “I’m sorry I made you do it. I didn’t realise how strongly you felt about it.”

Harry couldn’t understand how she could have not realised that as he had made it perfectly clear to her on several occasions that he did. Not. Want. To. Do. It. He didn’t say so, though. He was too exhausted. And repulsed with himself. Because even though Ginny had asked him to and seemed to have enjoyed it, he felt like he had somehow molested her and been unnecessarily mean to her.

After a couple of minutes Harry felt composed enough to let go of Ginny and get back in the circle. People were still looking at the couple, most of them slack jawed. Ron, Hermione and Draco’s attention was focused mainly on Harry and all three of them looked concerned. Ron’s expression also had a degree of revulsion, shock and horror which was perfectly understandable. Harry avoided looking at them.

“I must say, Potter, I did not see that coming,” Parkinson said. Harry glared at her and didn’t answer.

“That was…” Terry Boot said.

“- fucking awesome,” Greengrass finished for him, grinning. (Not that that was necessarily what Boot would have said.)

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking cunt,” Draco snapped, earning him a surprised look from Greengrass as well as several other students.

Being Harry’s turn, he dared Ron to snog Hermione for two minutes, making them both blush. Ron then dared Draco to give Hermione one of his head rubs as, apparently (Harry hadn’t noticed), Hermione had mentioned on several occasions how talented his massages were and Ron was sick of it. Harry was annoyed when Draco picked Harry. He had hoped to be able to sit in peace for a bit. He chose dare.

“Go to bed,” Draco said. “Bring your girlfriend but don’t have sex. Do you think that is at all possible for you? Being alone in a room with your girlfriend without shagging like bunnies.” He made it sound condescending and Ginny uttered a ‘fuck you’, accompanied by a rude hand gesture. But Harry knew what Draco was doing and he was grateful. He sent the other boy a small smile before he dared Greengrass to give Goyle a blowjob. Hah. He got up and took Ginny’s hand leading her to his dorm.

They didn’t really talk. Ginny apologised some more and Harry mumbled some half-hearted reassurances that it was okay, but mostly they just lay cuddling until they both fell asleep, Ginny spooning Harry, holding him in a comforting embrace.

*

“Where’s Harry?” Draco asked Granger and Weasley who were sitting on a sofa in front of the fireplace.

It was past noon, lunch was over and Draco hadn’t seen Harry at all that day.

Both Granger and Weasley looked at him over their shoulders. “I think he’s in the dorm,” Weasley said. “Why?”

“I need to ask him something,” Draco answered.

“If it’s about last night…” Granger said but Draco interrupted her.

“It’s not.” Although he _would_ like to ask Harry how he was doing. The two Gryffindors looked at him expectantly. “It’s my mother. Harry told me to tell her she could redecorate the house if she wanted. She’s asking whether he would like his godfather’s room to stand untouched or if she should do that as well.”

“That’s very considerate of her,” Granger said with a smile.

“She is a very considerate woman,” Draco answered. “So… how _is_ he doing?”

Weasley frowned. “I haven’t really talked to him yet. Ginny spent the night and they were sleeping when I got up. I checked on them half an hour ago and they were still sleeping. I didn’t want to wake them up. Thought he deserved a lie-in.”

“And thank you by the way, Draco,” Granger said. “It was very considerate of you to give him that dare.” Weasley nodded his consent.

“Well, that’s the Malfoys for you,” he answered. Weasley raised an eyebrow. “Two thirds of them anyway,” Draco corrected and Granger’s lips quirked upwards. “I’ll go see if he’s there so I can answer my mother’s request. I’ll let you know if he’s up.”

“Thanks,” Weasley answered.

Draco opened the door quietly in case Harry was still sleeping. He wasn’t. Draco was greeted by the sight of the Weaselette straddling Harry on the bed opposite the door, her sea of red hair covering her back and bouncing up and down. Apparently they had made up. Not wanting to intrude on their makeup sex – at least not when it was happening in the dorm (people might catch him watching, and besides; untrue to form the sight had for some reason made him slightly queasy) – he quietly closed the door. When he turned to leave he was greeted by Harry who had just entered through the portrait hole carrying a plate loaded with toast, bacon, eggs and fruit.

“Hey,” Harry greeted with a smile.

Draco’s eyes widened as he realised what was going on and he automatically lifted his arm, holding on to the doorframe, preventing Harry from entering his dorm.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked quickly, lacking in anything cleverer to say.

Harry looked surprised, both at Draco’s stupid question and the fact that he was preventing Harry from entering the dorm.

“This is my dorm,” Harry explained. “I told Ginny I was going flying but the weather sucks too much so I didn’t feel like it anyway. So I went to the kitchens instead. We missed breakfast and lunch. Could you step aside a tad?”

“No,” Draco said firmly.

“Why?” Harry asked, his brows raised.

“I need to ask you something,” Draco said, buying time. He was hoping that the Weaselette and whoever it was would just finish and get dressed. Because as much as he disliked her he didn’t want Harry to find out like this.

“Okay,” Harry said patiently but looking a little bit annoyed. “So ask.”

“Uh, my mother wants to know if you want your godfather’s room to stand untouched or if she should redecorate that as well.”

Harry’s expression softened. “That was kind of her. I’d like to leave it untouched for now. Now would you please move?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I can’t. I’m stuck” Draco said lamely.

“You’re stuck?” Harry asked sceptically.

“Yes.”

“Okay then, let me help you,” Harry said, shifting the plate to rest in one hand and grabbing his wand with the other. He cast a mild Stinging Hex on Draco’s hand and he jerked it away per reflex. “There you go.”

“Harry, please don’t go in there,” Draco begged.

Harry frowned at Draco suspiciously, opened the door and walked in. Draco closed his eyes at the sound of porcelain smashing on the floor.

“ _What the_ _FUCK_ _is going on in here_?”

The outburst drew the attention of everyone currently in the common room. Draco caught Granger and Weasley’s eyes and he shook his head vigorously as they began moving towards the dorm. They both stopped.

Seconds later Longbottom came running out of the room at impressive speed, dressed only in a pair of jeans that he was still in the process of buttoning. ‘Nice’, Draco heard Pansy say somewhere in the background, most likely commenting on the state of his upper body, which, Draco had to admit, had changed considerably from chubby to muscle-toned.

Someone – Draco didn’t know whether it was Harry or the Weaselette – slammed the door to the dorm but it didn’t close entirely as a piece of smashed plate had lodged itself between the door and frame.

“ _What the fuck, Ginny_?” Harry shouted.

“What? The Weaselette asked.

“ _What?_ ” Harry shouted. “ _WHAT? What the FUCK do you think you were doing?”_

“ _You said you were going flying,_ ” she shouted back.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were dead quiet, listening in on the argument. Nobody dared walk up and close the door. Or maybe they were just too curious to do it. Draco was.

“ _Oh, well then I guess the fault is mine. I’ll just pop out for an hour so you can finish up, shall I?_ ”

“Come on, Harry, you’re completely overreacting.”

“Am I? _Am I_?”

“Yes. Why don’t we just… go to bed again and talk it over.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yes. You can fuck me hard with your big, throbbing cock until you come deep inside me,” the Weaselette purred.

“ _Fuck_ no! I’m not putting my cock anywhere _near_ you.”

“ _Why not?_ ” the Weaselette demanded.

“ _Why not? WHY NOT? Because Neville’s cock was just in you that’s why not._ ”

People gasped and every eye was on Longbottom who stood still, head bowed and looking down. Weasley looked confused at first but as he slowly comprehended what Harry had said and what it meant, his expression changed to something nearing murderous. Granger was standing with her hand covering her mouth, looking shocked.

“My, my, Longbottom,” Pansy said. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“That was _not_ what it looked like,” the Weaselette said firmly.

“Oh, right,” Harry said sarcastically. “So what happened was that you both accidentally lost your clothes and in the confusion you _fell on Neville’s cock?_ ”

“That’s just…” the Weaselette began, but Harry interrupted her.

“That’s why Draco tried to stop me from going in here,” he said as an afterthought.

“Draco,” the Weaselette said, her voice laced with venom. “ _Draco. Always FUCKING Draco! You’re obsessed with that prick, Harry._ ”

“ _Don’t you dare make this about me.”_

_“Oh yeah? Who else is it about then?”_

_“You! It’s about you!”_

They were both shouting now.

_“It is NOT about me,”_ the Weaselette stated. _“It’s about HIM. This is HIS fault.”_

_“It’s NOT his fault. YOU’RE the one acting like a crazy jealous bint. YOU’RE the one seeing things that aren’t there. YOU’RE the one WHORING YOURSELF OUT.”_

_“I am NOT whoring myself out.”_

_“You just did! And to Neville. And Merlin knows who else.”_

_“Don’t you dare lay a hand on him.”_

_“I’ll do PRECISELY as I like.”_

Draco heard Longbottom make a small whimper behind him.

_“Fuck you, Harry.”_

_“No thank you. Never again.”_

_“Oh, that’s right. You only have eyes for Malfoy.”_

_“STOP MAKING THIS ABOUT HIM.”_

Draco felt a blush creep up his neck and cheeks. As much as he enjoyed being the centre of attention this was quite embarrassing.

_“It IS about him! EVERYTHING is about him.”_

_“HOW? How can it be Draco’s fault that you ENDED UP IN NEVILLE’S BED?”_

_“I was IN the fucking common room last night, Harry. I SAW the sparks. There were THREE FUCKING ORGASMS.”_

“I… That’s… That’s _completely_ beside the point.”

_“It’s not, Harry. There was supposed to be ONE fucking orgasm. How the FUCK do you end up with three?”_

_“We were DRUNK. THINGS HAPPEN.”_

_“But things ALWAYS happen with MALFOY. It’s no fucking wonder I sleep around.”_

_“I KNEW it. I KNEW you were doing something behind my back.”_

_“Stop being such a FUCKING HYPOCRITE, Harry. You’re doing things behind my back too.”_

_“Oh yeah? Like what exactly?”_

_“In the cupboard.”_

_“You said things were SUPPOSED to happen in the fucking cupboard.”_

_“Not THAT cupboard. The other cupboard. The ingredients cupboard. Where you wanked each other off.”_

Draco felt his flush deepen and was painfully aware that every eye was on him. He would very much like to not be around at the moment but at the same time he needed to hear what was being said about him.

_“You mean the cupboard YOU LOCKED US IN?”_

_“And I know you let him watch us having sex. You know, that time we first did the Mr. Potter thing.”_

Weasley looked at Draco as if he just had an epiphany. “So that’s why you called him Mr. Potter and he called you Mr. Malfoy.” Draco didn’t answer.

The fight continued.

_“How do you even know about that?”_

_“Even if there wasn’t such a thing as peripheral vision it was pretty obvious when Ron revealed that he called you Mr. Potter.”_

_“_ That’s just… _That’s just_ completely _beside the point.”_

_“And I_ know _that he was in the common room that time we fucked the entire day. And I_ know _you know he was. I_ know _you get off on him watching and listening. And I_ bet _you if I hadn’t seen him that day in the bathroom YOU WOULD HAVE LET HIM WATCH THE WHOLE_ FUCKING _THING_. _”_

_“Oh yeah?”_

_“YEAH. And I just_ know _something happened that time you passed out in the common room.”_

_“WE FELL A-FUCKING-SLEEP YOU FUCKING DELUDED BITCH.”_

Gasps were heard around the common room at Harry’s words. Even though everybody had heard him talk dirty the night before it was still somewhat out of character to hear Harry address anybody like that.

_“I’m sure you did. But that doesn’t rule out things happening_ before _you fell asleep. I know a concealed lie when I hear one.”_

_“I bet you do, you deceiving conniving slut. NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED.”_

_“Stop FUCKING lying to me, Harry.”_

There was a small pause.

“Fine. _Fine. You want me to stop lying?”_

_“Yeah, I do.”_

_“Fine. We_ did _do something that night. I wanked and he watched. Then we kissed. And we wanked each other in the ingredients cupboard._ And _we kissed. We wanked each other and kissed in the cupboard that time in the common room. We’ve wanked each other on a dare. He has listened to us having sex more than once. I’ve watched him wank. Twice. And it FUCKING turned me on. I’ve watched him having sex. Several times. I’ve even sought it out. We’ve kissed in the middle of the Potions classroom while EVERYONE was there – and it WASN’T during the thing on Thursday.“_

(Draco heard several murmurs as his classmates were obviously trying to figure out when _that_ had happened.)

_“- We’ve held hands on a detention, -“_

(Draco heard a few snickers from some of the audience and he hid his head in his hands.)

_“- it_ wasn’t _a lust potion. It was the real one. A fucking highly concentrated one because Draco is_ fucking _awesome at potions. And I WANTED TO FUCK HIM. I wanted to fuck him so hard into the desk he’d forget his own name. And if Ron hadn’t knocked us out, I WOULD HAVE. And yesterday I also wanted to fuck him, but unfortunately that wasn’t the dare, so instead I just tossed him off twice and he sucked me off and it was FUCKING brilliant. And if I had the choice between a blowjob from him and a blowjob from you, I’d choose him, because at least HE’S FUCKING GOOD AT IT.”_

Draco was pretty sure that one would be able to fry eggs on his forehead right now. He was trying to make himself as small as possible. It wasn’t really working.

SLAP. They heard the sound of skin on skin.

Harry laughed. “Oh, so that’s what earns me a slap. Criticising your seriously lacking blowjob skills.”

_“Fuck you, Harry.”_

_“Well you said you wanted the truth_ ,” Harry continued. _“Here’s some more for you. I fucking HATED what you made me do last night. I fucking HATE the fact that you don’t respect my opinions and feelings about things like that. I HATE it when you call me a girl and a prude and I HATE it when you join the Friday night games.”_

_“Yeah? Well let ME tell YOU some truths then_ ,” the Weaselette shouted back. _“I kissed Neville in the library. I fucked Neville just now and I fucking loved it.”_

(All eyes turned to Longbottom who glanced at Weasley nervously.)

_“I went down on Pansy in that cupboard and she went down on me and it was amazing.”_

(All eyes on Pansy who smirked.)

_“I’ve fucked Michael Corner.”_

(Michael Corner wasn’t there so they couldn’t turn their eyes on him.)

_“I’ve fucked Zacharias Smith._

(Smith – the idiot – smirked.)

“ _As it happens I_ didn’t _fuck Blaise but I_ wanted _to.”_

(All eyes turned to Blaise who blushed and looked at Weasley nervously. Draco thought that the blush might be caused by the fact that he _hadn’t_ slept with the Weaselette when his reputation practically demanded that he do so.)

_“- Which is funny, by the way, since he’s the only one you ever accused me of sleeping with. You PATHETIC, IGNORANT FUCK.”_

_“Fuck you, Ginny. EVERYTHING I said last night was true. YOU’RE A FUCKING WHORE. A FILTHY, DIRTY, GAGGING-FOR-IT SLUT. A HOLE TO FUCK. A CHEAP SKANK. We’re OVER. AND GOOD LUCK GETTING NEVILLE TO POLYJUICE HIMSELF INTO SNAPE YOU FUCKING PERVERTED DEVIANT.”_

_“Well fuck you too, Harry. You’re pathetic. A pathetic, useless orphan whose only achievement is getting his parents killed.”_

The common room was dead silent. People gasped as Harry came storming out of the dorm. He was looking white as a sheet and was momentarily startled by the many faces that were looking at him with a large variety of facial expressions – most of them shock.

He turned to look at Draco and pointed his index finger at him. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he spat. Draco held up both his hands and shook his head, his eyes wide.

Then Harry stormed out of the portrait hole. On his way out he smashed his fist hard into the wall and there was the distinct sound of bones breaking.

Just as he disappeared through the portrait hole the Weaselette came storming out of the dorm, covered only by a sheet she had casually wrapped around herself, her shoulders and upper back bare.

“ _If that’s how you feel I don’t think we’re going to work out, Harry_ ,” she shouted at the now closed portrait hole. She took one look at the other students and sneered as she re-entered the dorm.

She bent down and picked up the piece of porcelain that had prevented the door from closing. Then she threw it with impressive force at Draco who, using his seeker’s reflexes, caught it just before it would have pierced his arm.

The Weaselette slammed the door to the dorm and the room was completely quiet. Then everybody turned to look at Longbottom again, seeing as he was the one who had been the reason for the fight in the first place.

Smith – the idiot, Draco thought again – walked over and slapped Longbottom’s shoulder. “Well done, Longbottom.” He grinned smugly.

Longbottom looked up and dared eye contact with Weasley who had walked over and was standing a foot from him, giving him the look of doom. Without warning he punched Longbottom straight on the nose. Again, there was the unmistakable sound of bones breaking, and it wasn’t Weasley’s.

“That’s for my friend,” Weasley said as Longbottom gingerly touched his bloody nose and whimpered some more.

Weasley smashed his knee up and planted it hard directly in Longbottom’s balls. “And _that’s_ for my sister.”

Longbottom bent over and fell to the floor, groaning and cradling his balls.

Smith – the idiot – laughed loudly at Longbottom and was caught off guard when Weasley punched his nose and kneed him in the groin.

Weasley looked up to scan the common room to see if there was anybody else present who qualified for a ‘Weasley special’. His eyes fell on Pansy who glared back at him, admirably unintimidated.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” she said. “That was during a game. If that’s how we play it you’d have to beat up every bloke in here.”

Weasley narrowed his eyes but didn’t do anything. Instead he turned to look at Blaise who started fidgeting nervously. Such a coward. “I would have enjoyed punching you,” Weasley said.

After the initial drama had died down and someone had taken pity on Longbottom and Smith and healed their noses, Draco sat down with his Ancient Runes essay and tried to ignore the curious glances – discreet or less discreet – that were thrown in his direction.

“I thought you slept with her, too,” Pansy said to Blaise after a while of studying in silence.

Draco looked up and saw Blaise fidgeting with his quill. “Well, I was going to,” he said. “But in the end I decided against it. I’d rather not face the wrath of Potter. And Weasley, by the looks of it.”

“Huh,” Pansy said and they went back to studying again.

After a while of silence Draco heard someone clear their throat. He looked up as Granger approached him.

“Could I persuade you to join me in my dorm?”

The other students at the table (Blaise, Pansy, Vince and Greg) looked up, surprised at the request.

“Are you propositioning Draco, Granger?” Pansy asked, smirking, causing Granger to blush.

“No, of course not. Ron will be there too,” Granger said. Laughter erupted at the table and Granger looked confused.

Draco got up. “Come along, Granger. I’ll save you from these uncouth savages.” He led her away by the elbow and they went into the Gryffindor girl’s dorm where Weasley was waiting on a bed – Granger’s, Draco assumed.

When he entered the room he was met by a strong, sweet stench. He wrinkled his nose and coughed. “Merlin, Granger, it reeks. How do you sleep in here?”

“I have a modified version of the Bubble Head Charm around my sleeping area – bed and trunk and about four feet out on either side.”

“But what is it?” Draco asked, choking on the thickness of the smell.

“Incense, perfume, lotions and other such products. Lavender Brown resides here.”

They reached Granger’s bed and Draco drew a deep breath as he entered the odourless (except for a subtle, pleasant flowery scent) space.

“Greetings, Weasley,” Draco said.

“Hello, Malfoy,” Weasley answered. “Have a seat.” Weasley gestured to the bed and Draco sat down, pulling his feet up and sitting in a cross legged position.

“I assume this is about Harry?” Draco asked and it was confirmed by nods from both Granger and Weasley.

“And?” Draco said when neither of the two others seemed inclined to say anything.

Weasley narrowed his eyes and pulled off his sweater, baring a hideous orange Chudley Canons T-shirt. Then he reached down and pulled off his socks.

“What the hell are you doing, Weasley?” Draco asked, somewhat repulsed by the sight of Weasley’s feet, sprinkled with ginger hairs.

“What?” Weasley shrugged. “It’s warm inhere. And I’m most likely going to blush at some point or other during this and get even warmer, so I thought I might as well prepare myself.”

“But the socks?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, well, my feet get hot,” Weasley explained.

“That actually sounds sensible,” Granger said and discarded of her cardigan and socks. Draco wondered if it was a Gryffindor thing to get warm feet.

“Well, I’m only wearing a shirt. I’m not taking that off,” Draco said.

“You don’t have to take off anything,” Granger said bemused.

“But I feel left out,” Draco complained and frowned. Weasley snickered and Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

“So just… I don’t know – roll up the sleeves or unbutton a few buttons. And take off your socks,” Granger suggested.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Do you people have some sort of foot fetish?”

“Yes,” Weasley said with a blank expression. “And as soon as your socks are off we’ll tie you to the bed and lick your toes till you scream.”

Draco rolled his eyes. He unbuttoned an extra button in his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Then he pulled off his socks. Just because.

“Good,” Granger said. “Now that that’s all in order, I believe you owe me a head rub.” She looked at Draco expectantly. The dare Weasley had set last night about giving Granger a massage had been forgotten when Draco had sent Harry to bed.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He moved up to sit against the headboard opposite Weasley, put a pillow in his lap (just as a precaution) and gestured to Granger to take a seat in front of him. When she was comfortably positioned he buried his hands in her thick, frizzy mane and began rubbing gently, eliciting a contented sigh from her.

“You know,” Draco said. “Had anyone told me half a year ago that in the not too distant future I would be living in a Gryffindor’s house, bonding with Gryffindors in their beds while giving them head rubs, spying on Gryffindors _for_ Gryffindors and losing my socks with Gryffindors, I don’t know what I would have done to them.”

Weasley snorted and Granger giggled.

“Are you decent?” said a sing-song voice from the door which had opened without any of them noticing. A blond girl was standing in the doorway looking mischievous, obviously thinking her remark was extremely amusing. “What are _you_ doing here?” she asked bemused as she became aware of who was also sitting on Granger’s bed. With his hands in her hair. For some reason she felt the need to squeeze her arms around her breasts, showing off her cleavage even more than it already was. She batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips. She looked ridiculous.

“We’re having a threesome. You’re not invited. Leave,” he snapped at her. She gasped and quickly left the dorm.

Weasley snickered and Granger groaned. “Great, Draco,” she said. “She’s only the worst gossip in the entire year. In about five minutes the whole school will be thinking we’re in some sort of polyamorous relationship.”

Draco snickered and Weasley blushed and spluttered with something Draco thought might have been a near-laugh. “Well, I thought I might as well do the whole trio while I was already at it.”

Weasley let out a bark of laughter which caught Draco by surprise and he couldn’t help grinning.

“Which one was she anyway?” he asked.

“Lavender,” Granger explained. “The one with the products. I think she has a crush on you, you know.”

“Huh. Well, she’s not really my type. I like them dark…” Draco trailed off, realising what he was saying.

Granger giggled and Weasley made a choking sort of sound. “We know,” Granger said.

Draco sighed. “Well, look at us all bonding over girls and boys. Could we perhaps get on with business before we start braiding each other’s hair?”

“Yes,” Weasley said. “First and foremost, I have some questions that need answers. I promised Hermione I won’t be upset, so you don’t have to worry about bodily harm. Much.”

Draco shifted a bit in his seat, assessing his possibilities of escape if it should become necessary.

“Okay,” Weasley continued. “I know about several things of the stuff Harry mentioned earlier today that you had done. Hermione filled me in on most of the rest – which, by the way, I’m still quite insulted that you knew about and I didn’t.” He directed the last bit at Granger. “So, when the hell did you manage to kiss during potions? And when did he watch you having sex?”

“I thought you’d have told him that already, Granger,” Draco said while still rubbing her head.

“Yes, well, I didn’t have any concrete evidence or direct confessions, so…”

Draco thought it over, contemplating whether he should refuse to tell them anything. In the end he decided that it might be fun to see how Weasley would react. “Okay then. We ‘kissed’ in potions the second time we got petrified during a fight – you know, when he bit my lip. Slughorn un-petrified our lips and tongues and it just sort of happened. It was the most awkward kiss I have ever had. And the sex… Well the first time was when I had planned to meet Pansy for sex on the third floor. When I was looking for a suitable classroom there were noises coming from one of them. Turned out it was Harry and your sister. So I picked the classroom next to it. Your sister left first and when Harry left a little bit after, he saw us. The second time was that time Granger went all Umbridge.” Draco ignored Granger’s _‘hey’_. “I gather she somehow figured out Harry was following us to watch.”

Weasley wrinkled his nose. “He followed you to watch?”

“Kinky bastard, isn’t he?” Draco leered.

“It’s not like you didn’t practically invite him,” Granger said.

“Ugh. You’re _both_ kinky bastards,” Weasley said and Draco snickered.

“I must say, Weasley,” Draco said. “You’re taking all this rather well. I’d have expected you to freak out. Kick my arse or something. In your sister’s opinion, _I’m_ the direct reason for their breakup.”

“Yeah, well. Hermione convinced me that kicking your arse wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, I still have to kick Michael Corner’s arse. And I’ve come to realise that Ginny isn’t all that innocent in the whole thing either. Plus, she said some really nasty things. Hermione says that Ginny is in denial about her own part in the break-up.”

“Your girlfriend is very wise,” Draco said, making both Gryffindors splutter and blush. Well, he couldn’t see Granger’s blush but he assumed it was there. “So, what is to be done now?” he asked, ignoring their splutters.

Granger cleared her throat. “We think that one of us should go talk to him. We think it should be me.”

“I agree,” Draco said.

“Good,” Granger continued. “We were also discussing whether it would be a good idea for Harry to switch dorms for a while. You know, to avoid Neville.”

“That sounds sensible,” Draco said. “And I assume that you were thinking about the Slytherin dorm as that’s the only dorm the Weaselette – sorry, Weasley; your sister – hasn’t… been around.”

“Exactly,” Granger said. “And I must say that did come as a surprise. I was almost absolutely certain that Zabini and she had… You know.”

“I thought so too,” Draco admitted. “Turns out he’s scared of Harry. You too now, Weasley.” He looked at Weasley who looked pleased. “What scenario do you picture?”

“We haven’t actually discussed it yet. We wanted to know if you thought it would be possible.”

“It’s fine by me,” Draco said. “And the others will do as I tell them to.” Weasley rolled his eyes at that. “So, there are several options all depending on whether you want to scare Longbottom shitless or piss off girl-Weasley.”

Weasley looked at him expectantly and since Granger didn’t say anything Draco assumed she was also waiting for him to continue.

“Well, if your goal is to scare Longbottom the most effective solution would be to let him swap with Theo, seeing as he’s not half as scary as the rest of us.” Draco couldn’t help a gleeful smile at the thought of a frightened Longbottom in the Slytherin dorm. “If your plan is to move Harry into Slytherin I would suggest that he trade places with Goyle since he’s the biggest and physically scariest. He probably wouldn’t like the thought of bunking with a bunch of Gryffindors but he will manage. I could also tell him to threaten Longbottom. Rough him up a bit if you want. That option would also serve to vex your sister– and quite a bit, I imagine – seeing as Harry would be sleeping in the same room as me. However, Longbottom wouldn’t be near scared enough in my opinion. Then there’s the possibility of me swapping with Longbottom – not that I would enjoy the prospect of sleeping with a bunch of Gryffindors either, but that would put Longbottom in a dorm with three very scary Slytherins and one not so scary as well as Harry in the same room as me.”

Weasley was nodding. “I like the last one best. If we can get Harry to agree.”

“And Neville,” Granger interjected.

“He doesn’t get a say,” Weasley said matter-of-factly. “He slept with my best mate’s girlfriend. _And_ with my sister.”

“Okay then,” Granger said. “I’ll go look for Harry.” She tilted her head so she could look at Draco. “Draco, would you discuss this with your dorm mates?”

Draco nodded and retracted his hands from Granger’s hair. She sighed at the loss.

“And I’ll go talk to Ginny if she’s still there,” Weasley said.

They got up and left the dorm. As they entered the common room they were met by stares. That seemed to happen a lot today. The blonde girl – Lavender Brown – was standing whispering with both Patil twins, Abbott, Boot and Goldstein, pointing at the three of them.

Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly. Then he turned to face Granger and Weasley and smiled at them wickedly. Granger shook her head as if knowing he was going to do something embarrassing.

“Thank you for a _lovely_ afternoon,” he said loudly before he cupped Granger’s face and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, letting his lips linger on hers a few moments. Her eyes widened and she stood dumbfounded. As did Weasley. “And thank you for including me,” he said more quietly, not referring to the alleged affair but to the fact that they had included him in the Harry-issue. The innuendo was just a bonus.

“Well, turns out you’re not half bad,” Weasley said without thinking. Then he blushed.

Draco smirked and, for the sake of the audience, smacked Weasley’s arse when he walked away from them to the spot at the table he had previously occupied. He was met by snickers from his fellow Slytherins who obviously knew that the new-born rumour had absolutely nothing to it.

He watched through the corner of his eye as Weasley entered the Gryffindor boys’ dorm to check on the Weaselette and Granger left the common room. He was feeling oddly excited and giddy at the prospect of the new sleeping arrangements. He told himself that it was because of the thought of Longbottom getting scared out of his wits by the big bad Slytherins and _not_ the thought of him sleeping in the same room as Harry. Because obviously he didn’t care about that at all.

“So, funny story;” Draco said after a while, addressing the male Slytherins at the table but still looking down on his essay, “You’re going to be sharing dorm with Longbottom for a few nights.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Draco saw Blaise, Greg, Vince and Pansy all looked up and looked at him questioningly.

“Oh?” Blaise asked.

“Yes,” Draco answered, still pretending to focus on his essay and giving no further explanation. He didn’t trust himself not to blush if he were to look Blaise or Pansy in the eye – never mind Greg and Vince.

“The way you’re phrasing it makes it sound as though you’re not going to?” Blaise said.

“I’m not,” Draco answered. “I’m swapping with Longbottom for a few days.”

There was silence at the table and eventually Draco looked up. He was met by several incredulous looks from his classmates. “What?”

“I think an explanation is in order,” Blaise said.

Draco exaggerated a sigh. “Fine. I wasn’t really getting it on with Granger and Weasley.”

“You don’t say,” Pansy said dryly.

Greg narrowed his eyes. “You were talking about Potter, weren’t you?”

“Astute observation, Greg,” Pansy mocked, earning her a glare from Greg.

Draco explained the plan to his fellow Slytherins, underlining the idea of scaring Longbottom and vexing the Weaselette.

“But you would be bunking in the Gryffindor dorm.” Vince stated the obvious.

“Well, I’ll just have to make that sacrifice,” Draco said.

The others went slack-jawed. “Merlin you have it bad,” Pansy said.

“Have what bad?”

“Your crush on Potter.”

“I don’t have a crush on Potter,” Draco denied, blushing. He tried to will himself not to blush since that would basically contradict the fact that Draco most certainly did _not_ have a crush on Harry. Which he didn’t. The only reason he had suggested that he swap with Longbottom was to help a friend.

“Mmhmm,” Pansy said and smiled sweetly. “And whose suggestion for that set-up did you say it was?”

“Mine, as it happens.” Draco looked Pansy in the eyes defiantly. “I listed up different scenarios, _including_ one that didn’t involve me sleeping with Harry –“ (The others snickered) “- I mean _in the same room_ as Harry, you dimwits – and Granger and Weasley just picked the one they liked best.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Pansy said with a smirk, causing the others to snicker and Draco to scowl. Because he _so_ did not have a crush on Harry.

*

Harry was standing at the edge of The Black Lake, throwing rocks into the water. Sometimes the Giant Squid would catch a rock and throw it back at him.

“Thought you might be here,” a voice sounded behind him.

“Hey Hermione,” Harry answered without looking back.

She moved to stand next to him, looking out over the lake. “So…”

“So…” he answered.

“How are you?”

“Surprisingly fine.” Harry threw another rock into the water.

Hermione didn’t answer.

“I feel like I should be more upset,” Harry said. “You know; sad that it’s over. But I’m not. I actually feel a little relieved. I think.”

“Let me take a look at your hand,” Hermione offered and Harry showed her the hand he had smashed into the wall on his way out of the common room. He hadn’t tried to heal it or see Madam Pomfrey, wanting to just get away from the castle.

“It doesn’t look too bad. I can probably mend the worst with an Episkey, and then you can go see Madam Pomfrey later,” Hermione said, pointing her wand at his broken knuckles and Harry felt a slight tingle followed by immense relief.

“Thanks.”

“Now that you’re not distracted by the pain; how are you _really_ feeling?”

Harry sighed and sat down on the shore and Hermione sat down next to him, casting a warming charm on both of them and a cushioning charm on the ground.

“Okay,” he said. “’Analysing Harry – Part Three’.” Hermione’s lips quirked upwards. “Well,” Harry continued, “I feel hurt, obviously. And surprised. Very, very surprised. And angry. And humiliated. And relieved. And a teensy bit guilty.”

Hermione nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Harry beat her to it. “Well, Harry,” he said in a high pitch voice, imitating Hermione, “try to _separate_ your feelings and _reflect_ on what is the _specific_ _cause_ for each one.”

Hermione laughed a small laugh and slapped his arm.

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’ll do that. Hurt: That’s mostly because of Neville actually. I can’t believe he would do that to me. What kind of friend does that? I think I’m actually more hurt about that than about Ginny doing it – I think I knew she was fooling around behind my back. Not to that extent, of course. But Neville… I guess that covers ‘surprise’ as well as hurt. Well, I’m a little surprised at the extent of Ginny’s… whereabouts but now I’m inclined to believe that what she told me doesn’t even cover it.

Harry paused for a bit then continued talking. “Anger… I’m angry with myself for not taking a stand earlier on and putting my foot down. And I’m angry with Neville for betraying my trust. And I’m angry with Ginny, of course, for disrespecting me like that. Doing it behind my back. Obviously I wouldn’t want her doing it to my face either, but… And that covers humiliation as well. Her sleeping around like a one Sickle whore. I mean, how many people has she been with? Probably a whole lot more than what she said up there. And all those people knew. And that just makes me wonder how many more people knew. Laughing behind my back. ‘Poor, pathetic Harry Potter. Feeling horny? Just do his girlfriend. She’ll do anyone’.”

Harry sighed. “And I feel relieved that it’s finally over. Because let’s be honest; it’s been a long way coming. And I feel guilty that I’m not as upset about us breaking up as I think I should be. And it annoys the shit out of me that I can’t pin the whole blame on her, seeing as I’m also guilty. So there, do your analysis, Doctor Granger, and make me feel better.”

Hermione smiled and put her arm around Harry, pulling him closer. “I can’t help you get rid of those emotions, Harry, and I also won’t try. I think it’s healthy to feel all those things after a break-up. I just wanted you to put words to your thoughts. Help you sort out what it is, you’re feeling.”

“Of course you did.” Harry said with a small smile. “So, what happened after I left?”

“Well, Ron punched both Neville and Smith in the face and broke their noses and then he kneed them in the groin. He’s looking forward to seeing Michael Corner,” Hermione said and Harry smiled fondly at the thought of his best friend kicking arse. “Then Ron, Draco and I went to my dorm to have a chat about what to do now.”

“You included Draco?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione in surprise.

“Yes. We have accepted that you really are friends and that he actually cares about you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said and truly meant it.

“You should know,” Hermione continued, “that if you hear a rumour that Ron, Draco and I were having a… an intimate encounter today, it’s not really true.”

“Why would I hear a rumour like that?”

“Lavender walked in when I was sitting between Draco’s legs, getting a head rub –“

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Harry interjected.

“It really was,” Hermione agreed. “Anyway, some of our clothes were strewn on the floor, and… well, you know Lavender.”

“Why were your clothes strewn on the floor?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Oh, Harry, it was just Ron’s sweater and my cardigan and all of our socks. Generally not so bad, but I’m pretty sure that Lavender noticed that Draco’s shirt was partly undone and his sleeves were scrunched up.”

“Why was his shirt partly undone?” Harry asked.

“He felt left out when Ron and I took off our sweaters and socks, so I suggested that alternative.”

“ _You_ suggested that alternative?” Hermione nodded and Harry narrowed his eyes, looking at her suspiciously. “Are you sure nothing happened?”

“Of course I’m sure, Harry,” Hermione answered sternly and then innocently added, “Would you be jealous if there had?”

“No, of course not. Do whatever you want,” Harry said, frowning.

Hermione glanced at him. “He kissed me afterwards, in the common room. To rattle Lavender and her co-gossips. And he smacked Ron’s arse.” She snickered at the memory.

Harry’s guts turned uncomfortably. He reasoned he must be hungry. After all, he had missed both breakfast and lunch and never got to eat any of the stuff he had brought up.

“Harry, Ron wants me to let you know that he’s not upset. Well, he’s upset, obviously, but not so much with you. It’s mostly Neville. And Smith and Corner for obvious reasons. And Ginny for breaking the illusion of the sweet little sister and for breaking his best friend’s heart and pride.”

“I don’t think my heart is broken,” Harry said. “I know it should be, but it’s not. We’ve never even said ‘I love you’.”

Hermione didn’t say anything but leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s getting cold, Harry, we should go in or we’ll catch a cold.”

Harry groaned. “Oh god. How can I ever face anyone ever again? How can I ever show my face in the common room again? And after the thing last night as well… That was so embarrassing and horrible. People must think I’m a freak. Hermione, that was a _very_ public display of… I don’t even know what to call it. And a _very_ public break-up.”

“It sure was, Harry,” Hermione agreed. “But people will get over it. You’re used to people talking about you and staring at you and thinking you’re a freak.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Harry muttered. “Besides, it’s completely different when it’s normal teenage things like sex and girlfriends and stuff than if it’s a Triwizard Tournament or the return of Voldemort. The normal stuff is so much worse.”

Hermione put her arm around her and gave him a squeeze. “By the way, we’ve arranged for Neville to swap bed with Malfoy for a while. So you don’t have to share a dorm.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Harry said and smiled. Then his smile turned to a malicious grin and he snickered. “Ginny will be so pissed off when she finds out Malfoy is sleeping in the same room as me. And Neville will be so scared he’ll be afraid to fall asleep.”

“That was the general idea,” Hermione said. “Come on, let’s go get you some food,” she added as Harry’s stomach rumbled.

Together they walked back up to the castle and to the kitchens where the house elves were more than happy to supply Harry with sandwiches and pumpkin juice.

Afterwards they went to the common room. Harry hesitated outside the portrait hole. He took a couple of deep breaths and Hermione took hold of his hand and, hand in hand, they entered the common room.

They were, quite predictably met by stares. The other students’ focus was mainly on Harry, but since Hermione had just allegedly had a threesome with Harry’s alleged mistress (or was it a mister when it was a man?) and was now entering the room holding Harry’s hand, she also got a fair bit of attention.

Just then the door to the Gryffindor boys’ dorm opened and Neville staggered out, dragging his trunk behind him. At the sight of Harry Neville stood up straight.

“Harry, I…”

“I hear Ron already hit you?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Neville said quietly. He was looking down and fidgeting with his hands.

“Good,” Harry said, his eyes cold.

“Listen, about Ginny,” Neville began, “I just want to say –“

“Neville,” Harry interrupted. “How can you possibly think that I would be interested in anything that you have to say?” He made sure to sneer appropriately. “You just go have fun in your new dorm. I’m sure they’ll take good care of you. But if I were you, I’d try not to fall asleep.”

Harry heard Neville swallow audibly as he hoisted up his trunk again and made for the Slytherin dorm, head bowed and a miserable expression on his face.

A movement by the Hufflepuff common room caught Harry’s eyes and he looked in that direction.

“Smith,” he said with a vicious glare.

“Hello, Potter,” Smith said, trying to sound unaffected. “No hard feelings, eh?” And then he had the audacity to actually grin.

Harry walked over to Smith to stand in front of him. They stood for a few seconds just looking at each other. Then, moving very quickly, Harry drew his wand, pointed it at Smith and threw a nonverbal hex – the one he had mentioned to Pansy some Fridays ago – that instantly made Smith’s nether regions reek. It was a smell rivalling rotten eggs and sewer water.

“That was non-verbal, Smith.” Harry stated the obvious. “Good luck finding the counter curse.”

Smith glared at him but made no move to reach for his wand.

Without seeking eye contact with anybody Harry left the common room and went to his dorm where he went to bed and pulled the drapes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened was that Harry was dared by Daphne to give Ginny an orgasm in the common room, letting Ginny choose how. She wanted to have sex but Harry refused and offered to finger her but no more. Then she guilted him into doing those Things with the choking, slapping and belittling that she had wanted him to do for some time. So he did it and hated it. Afterwards, Draco dared Harry and Ginny to go to bed but not have sex. He did that so Harry would be able to get out of the common room and be able to talk Things over with Ginny without ending up having sex instead.  
> The day after, Harry found Ginny in bed with Neville (hence the apology to Neville inthe notes at the beginning of the chapter), and there was a nasty fight, resultning - finally - in their break-up.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've all been waiting for

The week went by fast enough without Harry really noticing.

Ron had spoken with Ginny on Saturday right after their break-up. He had relayed some of the conversation to Harry afterwards.

It seemed that Ginny blamed Draco entirely for their break-up. She was convinced that Draco was out to steal Harry away from her and that Harry would gladly let him because he didn’t really care about Ginny at all and had just been using her for sex.

Harry’s jaw had dropped when he heard that, because obviously Draco wasn’t trying to steal Harry away from Ginny – he merely strongly disliked her and made no effort to hide it, as was the case the other way around – and Harry would certainly not have let Draco ‘steal’ him away from Ginny even if he _had_ tried to.

And lastly, if anyone in their relationship had been using the other for sex it was most certainly Ginny. Harry had almost laughed when Ron had said it.

Over all Ron seemed fine about the whole thing. He didn’t solely blame Harry for it but was very steadfast in his belief that Harry had been at fault as well. Harry could well understand and agree with that, since he _had_ engaged in sexual activity with someone else, even if it wasn’t intercourse.

Ron had given Michael Corner the obligatory broken nose and sore balls as soon as he had entered the common room the evening of the break-up. Harry hadn’t been in the common room to see it but he had heard the commotion through the door.

Harry spent the rest of Saturday and all Sunday in his dorm, Ron and Hermione bringing him food and taking their meals with him in his bed. Sunday evening they had brought Draco along for supper. It pleased Harry that both Ron and Hermione – albeit mostly Hermione – seemed to have accepted Draco as Harry’s friend.

Dean and Seamus had been reluctant to share dorms with Draco at first but understood why Harry might not want to sleep in the same room as Neville for a while and accepted the dorm situation without further fuss.

Draco turned out to be a pleasant enough roommate. He didn’t snore and he was very tidy. Sunday evening he had asked Harry if he would mind terribly if Draco reorganised his trunk because, as he put it, Harry’s trunk was ‘as messy as his hair’.

When Harry asked whether Draco had been looking in his trunk, he just answered ‘of course’ and rolled his eyes as if it were the most natural ting and actually a quite stupid question. When asked, he denied having looked through everybody else’s trunks. Harry wasn’t sure he quite believed it. Nevertheless, he let Draco reorganise his trunk.

Sometimes Draco would mutter under his breath. It wasn’t all audible but the phrase ‘bloody Gryffindors’ seemed to occur a lot. It didn’t sound or seem too unfriendly so Harry didn’t mind. It reminded him a little of Kreacher and he told Draco so. That earned him a glare and a pillow thrown at his head.

Neville was struggling in the Slytherin dorm. It wasn’t that anyone was really out to get him but apparently Draco had emphasised the need for subtle threats, causing Neville to look horrible from lack of sleep.

Although Harry felt a little guilty he also couldn’t help feeling rather satisfied by the other Gryffindor’s discomfort. He had, after all, brought it on himself.

Ginny was livid about it. She came barging towards him at breakfast on Monday, shouting at him for punishing Neville who was ‘completely innocent in all this’. Harry chose to ignore it and it didn’t seem as if Ginny expected an answer as she just stormed off to sit with her own classmates after she finished ranting.

Tuesday morning she came barging towards him again shouting about how right she had been about the whole thing since it had just come to her attention that Harry and Malfoy were sleeping together. That had caused several turned heads and whispers. Harry would have liked to point out to everybody who had heard what she said that she had just meant that they shared a dorm, but he was too busy dying of shame.

Luckily, that outburst had earned Ginny a detention with McGonagall. Hah.

On Tuesday Harry and Draco had their detention with Filch. They were ordered to clean the trophies in the Trophy Room by hand. The squib, however, didn’t think to order them to hand over their wands and when he trotted down the hallway and disappeared around a corner Draco immediately charmed the sponges and cleaning materials to do their job.

Harry and Draco sat the entire evening across from each other in a broad window sill, looking at the rain falling and making pleasant small talk.

Harry found that he had actually enjoyed the evening, contrary to the last couple of evenings, and returned to his dorm in a lighter mood than he had been for several days.

His good mood vaporised like water on a hot stone when Ginny had another outburst Wednesday morning.

Harry lost his patience with her as she came roaring towards him in the Great Hall, loudly accusing him of having a relationship with Draco, Ron and Hermione and shouting at Ron and Hermione for betraying her by taking ‘that ferret’ into bed.

That caused Harry to stand up and shout at her that he was not in a relationship with Draco Malfoy and he also wasn’t sleeping with him and neither were Ron and Hermione whom Harry, by the way, also wasn’t sleeping with.

That earned them both a detention with McGonagall, though luckily not at the same time. Harry was sentenced to writing ‘I must learn to control my temper’ five hundred times that evening. He wasn’t too bothered about it.

Harry joyed in the fact that Smith sat alone at the end of Hufflepuff table at meal times while everybody else was scrunched up as far away from him as possible. In class he was ordered to sit next to an open window to minimise the smell and his dorm mates had taken to using the modified version of the Bubblehead charm that Hermione used around her bed.

On Wednesday as he was on his way to detention with McGonagall Harry pulled Ernie MacMillan aside and taught him the counter curse. He suggested that Ernie use it as blackmail – being a Hufflepuff the thought probably wouldn’t occur to him.

Thursday morning Smith was odourless, though Harry didn’t know what Ernie had demanded in return.

 

Other than meals and in class Harry didn’t spend any time with other 7th years and generally stayed out of the common room. He mostly spent time talking with Ron, Hermione or Draco.

Even though he didn’t spend much time in the common room he was well aware of the fact that he was still a popular conversation topic, both regarding the break-up in general and also regarding the alleged ‘relationship’ with Ron, Hermione and Draco. ‘Professor Potter’ also got its fair bit of attention but was mostly overshadowed by the other things.

It was a welcome distraction when Ron on Wednesday, four days after the break-up, pulled Harry onto his bed as he returned from his detention with McGonagall, charmed the drapes shut, cast a silencing charm and asked Harry if he thought Hermione would say yes if he were to ask her out.

Harry was surprised at the question, because though everybody else knew that the two would eventually end up dating, they didn’t seem to have realised that yet themselves.

Seeing Harry’s surprise at the question Ron explained that Draco had called Hermione Ron’s girlfriend when they were talking on Hermione’s bed the Saturday of the alleged threesome, and that Hermione had blushed and spluttered but hadn’t seemed outraged or disgusted or anything.

To Harry, that also explained why he had caught Hermione watching Ron pensively several times during the day for the past couple of days just to blush and look away when Ron caught her looking.

She also seemed to be giggling at Ron’s jokes in a very girly way that was unusual to her. Even the lame ones. One time, she actually batted her eyelashes in a very ‘Lavender’ kind of way that nearly caused Harry to laugh. Instead he choked on his pumpkin juice.

There was also a fair amount more touching than usual on both their parts; the odd pat on Ron’s arm when Hermione wanted his attention or vice versa, or a playful tickle on Ron’s part that would result in a bout of aforementioned giggles.

So when Ron asked if Harry thought he should ask her, Harry, of course, said yes.

The only problem that remained was moving from the theoretical part to the actual asking-part.

So far all Ron had succeeded in when he pulled Hermione aside, which he had done several times, was opening his mouth, drawing breath as if to say something, then blushing and closing it again. Or ask some ridiculous question.

Friday afternoon Hermione entered the boys’ dorm.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked Harry who was sitting cross legged on his bed, re-reading ‘Quidditch through the Ages’. Draco was sitting on his – well, Neville’s – bed, reorganising or sorting or cataloguing or whatever some sort of herbs that Harry presumed were potions ingredients.

Harry shook his head and gestured for her to sit down. “What’s up, Hermione?” he asked. “You look flustered.”

She frowned. “Does Ron seem odd to you?” she asked as she sat down in front of him, also crossing her legs.

“Odd?” Harry asked. Ron _did_ seem odd to Harry, but he knew the reason, though he wasn’t going to share it with Hermione.

“Yes, odd. He’s barely spoken to me since Wednesday evening except to pull me aside now and again to either just open and close his mouth and then leave or to ask some idiotic question.”

“Oh?” Harry said.

“Yes. Yesterday he pulled me aside three times. The first time he just stood there looking until he turned around and walked off. The second time he opened and closed his mouth a few times and the third time he asked me if I preferred string beans or kidney beans.”

Harry couldn’t help a small smile. “Oh?” he said again. “Well, what did you answer?”

Hermione frowned. “String beans, obviously.” Then she continued. “And today it’s been five times so far. He’s done an impression of a fish twice, asked me which size shoes I wear, asked me who I thought would win the house cup, and just now he just stared and then slapped himself and walked off. I’m really worried.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Hermione. He’ll be fine,” Harry said reassuringly.

She looked at him suspiciously. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I might,” Harry answered grinning. “And you hate that, don’t you?”

She glowered at him. “You’re mean.”

Harry grinned at her. “I love you, too, Hermione.”

Hermione huffed and exited the dorm.

“Why doesn’t he just ask her out?” Draco asked from his bed on the other side of the room.

“Because he’s scared she’ll say no.”

“But she won’t. Everybody knows that.”

“Yeah, but _he_ doesn’t. They are a bit oblivious about it.”

Draco snorted. “Just a bit?”

“Yeah. It’s weird. He’d do anything for her and she would as well and the just don’t seem to get it.”

Draco didn’t answer, only looked at Harry with a small frown.

Harry shrugged. “If it hasn’t happened by Monday I’ll do it for him. Or something. Right now I’ll just leave it to him. It will be so satisfying for him when he does it and she says yes.”

 

Harry planned to spend his evening in bed, reading instead of joining the games, but was dragged to the common room by Ron who voiced the opinion that he could do with some action instead of wallowing in his misery and self-pity alone in his bed on a Friday night.

So he joined the game, managing to get Ron and Hermione to sit next to each other with Harry on Hermione’s other side.

There were the obligatory (relatively) innocent snogging sessions in the beginning of the games until the firewhiskey started showing its effects and the dares got wilder.

Ron kept turning his head to look at Hermione and then hurriedly look away when she turned her head to look at him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Weasley; truth or dare?” Draco asked harshly at one point.

“Dare,” Ron answered.

“Take Granger to your dorm and don’t come out until you asked her out,” he ordered, apparently sick of watching Ron beat around the bush.

Ron blushed fiercely and spluttered – then started coughing as he choked on his spit. Hermione patted him awkwardly on the back, looking confused.

When Ron was done coughing he got up and offered his hand to Hermione to help her stand. Then they went in to the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

Someone – Harry didn’t register who – cast the sparks-spell and Harry watched the colours change between various shades of pink. When the sparks suddenly turned violet and gold, he hurriedly looked away as if that would prevent him from knowing what went on in there.

He got the sudden urge to stick his fingers in his ears, going ‘la-la-la’ but refrained from it. It wouldn’t do him any good anyway.

Eventually the door to the dorm opened and Ron and Hermione returned to the circle hand in hand, looking flushed and giddy. Harry made a mental note to thank Draco.

During the course of the evening, the dares got more and more daring.

Harry was dared by Smith, the arsehole, to suck Neville off but, thankfully, Neville refused immediately and was rewarded with another week of boils. Obviously Harry would have refused if Neville hadn’t. Neville just beat him to it and Harry saw no reason to object.

In return Harry dared Smith to take a dip in the Black Lake – just to get him out of the common room and out of Harry’s sight.

At some point, a few hours into the game, Draco was dared by Greengrass to fuck Parkinson. It was bound to happen at some point – someone being dared to have sex – what with the way the dares increased rapidly to the more and more extreme.

“Excuse me?” Draco said, looking at Greengrass with a frown.

“You heard me,” Greengrass answered. “Fuck Pansy. Do you need me to explain the concept to you?”

For some reason Draco’s eyes sought out Harry fleetingly and he bit his lip. Then he stood up and held out his hand for Parkinson to take and led her to the Gryffindor dorm. Harry got an odd sort of unpleasant sensation in his stomach and chest when the door to the dorm closed. He blamed the firewhiskey.

Hermione did the sparks spell and Harry saw Greengrass flick her wand as Draco and Parkinson entered the dorm, before anyone was able to stop her.

“There,” she said, grinning; “now we’ll be able to hear them, too.”

“Draco will murder you when he finds out,” Zabini told Greengrass who answered him with a ‘pff’ and a wave of her hand.

_“So, uh…”_ Harry could hear Draco’s voice as clear as if he was sitting right next to him.

_“Are you all right, Draco? You look ill.”_ Parkinson’s voice could be heard just as clearly.

_“I’m fine,”_ Draco said.

_“Okay. Then lose your clothes and let’s get on with it.”_

_“…”_

_“Draco, are you sure you’re okay?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean the fact that you’re still dressed and fidgeting like mad. And quite frankly you look slightly green. What is it? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”_

_“It’s just…”_

There was a small pause.

_“Draco, do you not want to do this?”_

There was another small pause before Draco answered. _“No. I don’t.”_ Then he groaned.

_“Well, do you want to take the boils instead?”_

_“No. If I go out there now after we already went in they’ll just think I’m impotent or something.”_

_“True,”_ Parkinson answered _. “And, you know I love you, darling, I really do –“ (_ Harry felt his insides squirm again. Damn firewhiskey.) “- _but I’m not going to molest my arse like that, even for you.”_

_“I wouldn’t expect it of you,”_ Draco answered.

_“May I ask_ why _it is that you don’t want to do this?”_

_“It’s just… It feels wrong. Very, very wrong.”_

_“Draco darling, would this by any chance have anything to do with what we talked about last Saturday?”_

Draco sighed. _“I think it might.”_

The common room was silent, sensing that some sort of secret would be revealed. “What were they talking about last Saturday?” someone (Harry didn’t register who) asked in an almost-whisper, but no-one answered.

“I don’t think we should listen to this,” Harry said, not wanting to have Draco reveal something obviously unpleasant to all his peers.

“I agree,” Hermione said and cast Finite Incantatem. It didn’t work.

_“Oh, honey,”_ Pansy said from inside the dorm.

Greengrass snickered and said cheerfully, “It can only be uncast by the wand that cast it. Or if the caster dies. Which I don’t plan on.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Draco answered. “ _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ fuck _. I’m fucked. Totally and utterly fucked.”_ Then he groaned loudly.

_“Merlin you really_ do _have it bad.”_

Goyle straightened up in his seat. “Hey, that’s what she said last Saturday when –“

Zabini interrupted him. “Finish that sentence, Greg, and I will hex your balls off,” he snapped and Goyle fell silent.

The curiosity in the room was so intense Harry could almost feel it trickling down his back.

_“Why did this have to happen to me?”_ Draco whined.

_“It’s not the end of the world you know,”_ Parkinson answered.

_“It_ is _, Pansy. It_ is _the end of the world. There’s no way… Fuck.”_

_“Speaking of, darling, we really ought to get moving if we’re going to do this.”_

Draco groaned again.

_“Listen, darling, if you think it will help, you can fuck me in the arse instead. And in_ that _bed. Isn’t that –“_

_“Yeah,”_ Draco said before she could finish the sentence.

Ron, Dean and Seamus groaned seeing as that meant they might have sex on another bed than the one he was currently occupying. Harry thought he ought to groan as well but actually found the thought of Draco having sex on his bed rather… interesting. Except for the sudden notion that right now he _hated_ Pansy Parkinson and there was no way she should be allowed to have sex with Draco on his bed. So he groaned as well.

_“Hell, and since it’ll easily grow out by magic, I’ll even let you cut my h…”_ Parkinson continued.

They didn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence as Zabini with impressive speed and force dove across the circle, yanked the wand out of Greengrass’ hand and shouted “FINITE INCANTATEM,” on the top of his lungs, startling several of the other students. Then he handed the wand to Greengrass again with a warning look and calmly walked across the circle of students and sat down again, looking as if nothing odd had just happened.

Greengrass didn’t cast the spell again and the students settled with watching the sparks instead.

As the sparks started turning pink and violet and gold Harry once again felt the firewhiskey making his stomach turn.

For some reason he felt angry although he couldn’t explain why. He turned away and poured another shot which he downed immediately. Then he poured another one and downed that too. He didn’t direct his attention to the sparks again.

Harry felt increasingly annoyed and when people started cheering for the sparks to ‘climax’ he found himself throwing his shot-glass through the room and shouting, “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WOULD YOU SHUT UP? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT BEFORE.”

The crowd quieted down, most of them looking at him in surprise. Harry felt his face heat up.

From across the circle Zabini was staring at him. Merlin that man had an intense gaze.

Harry conjured a new glass since the other had shattered against the wall and poured another shot, just because.

He looked to the side and saw Hermione look between him and Zabini quizzically. Then her eyes lingered on Zabini who stared back at her, unblinking, and after a few moments Hermione’s eyes widened and she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. Then she looked at Harry again, who frowned at her. He had no idea what had just happened.

Bloody Zabini with his bloody silent conversations and bloody Hermione with her bloody brilliant brain. So Harry crossed his arms over his chest, put on a scowl and grumbled to himself.

Soon Draco and Parkinson emerged from the dorm and sat down again in their seats across from Harry, Parkinson sitting next to Zabini.

Draco was looking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened but was pointedly avoiding looking at Harry.

Parkinson, however, was looking straight at him, and he suddenly felt another wave of strong dislike towards her. He sneered at her but instead of sneering back, she looked bemused and then her lips broadened in a genuine smile that turned to a grin that turned to a smirk. She leaned in and whispered something to Zabini who nodded and then turned to look at Harry (again), also smirking. Harry got the distinct feeling of being left out and glared at them both. Then Pansy snaked her arm around Draco.

Harry felt his nostrils flare at this completely unnecessary and utterly ridiculous display of emotions and stood up. “Right, I think I’ve had enough for this evening. I’m going to bed. ‘Night.”

He entered his dorm without having looked back, full well knowing that several pairs of eyes were most likely following him intensely. As if that was new.

*

Draco was fucked. Totally and utterly fucked. He did not need this. A fucking crush on Harry fucking Potter. Fucking Pansy for making him realise it. And fucking Daphne for setting the dare that made Pansy able to make him realise it. This was not good.

He had gone to bed not long after Harry the ‘Friday of the Epiphany’ but Harry’s drapes had already been shut tight.

The rest of the weekend was agony. Draco resolved to taking his meals in bed as Harry had the previous weekend, with his drapes shut and either Blaise or Pansy for company.

He was grateful that Blaise had managed to uncast the spell that bint Daphne cast, before anything crucial had been revealed. Blaise had informed Draco that he was fairly certain that Granger had caught on anyway, though. Damn that woman and her superior skills of observation and deduction.

To Draco’s surprise Harry had joined Blaise at supper in Draco’s bed on Sunday.

Draco had stuttered and blushed like a teenager with a crush and had complained about it to Pansy later in the evening. She had pointed out that he _was_ a teenager with a crush. That hadn’t been helpful at all. Stupid bint.

 

One would have thought that sharing a dorm with one’s crush would be wonderful. But one would be wrong.

It was torture; knowing that he was lying just over there with nothing on but shorts encasing those firm globes in the back and big bulge in the front and showing the pointed hipbones that Draco just wanted to lick, and the line of dark hair leading down to his thick, delicious, gorgeous cock.

And watching him – discreetly, obviously – get undressed in the evening, the muscles on his back flexing as he pulled off his shirt. And getting dressed in the morning, and showing off his fit, subtly outlined torso as he stretched. And not being able to touch. Or suck. Or lick. Or even look properly because of his stupid temporary dorm mates.

And Harry was just acting normal, oblivious to Draco’s sufferings. Which was good on some level because Draco most certainly did not want Harry to know about it. That would ruin their friendship and Draco did not want to risk that. On another level it was bad because it meant that either Harry didn’t notice Draco’s distress or he didn’t care.

Standing next to Harry in Potions was awful. Draco had a hard time focusing on the potion they were brewing when he could feel Harry’s warmth right next to him. Every time their hands accidentally touched, Draco felt electricity soar through his body and hordes of butterflies go wild in his stomach.

And Granger kept looking at him knowingly which annoyed him to no end. Draco was close to hexing her on several occasions.

He was just grateful that she had at least chosen not to share the revelation with her newfound boyfriend. Draco couldn’t imagine that going down well.

On Thursday, suffering nearly a week of staring, Draco finally had enough. He felt her gaze on his back all through Potions and it was almost more distracting than the fact that Harry’s fingers had just brushed against his when he handed over the knife. In the end he turned around faster than she was able to look away.

“Granger! I know you know, you know. So stop bloody staring. It’s distracting,” Draco snapped and Granger had the decency to blush and look away.

“What was that about?” Weasley asked when Draco turned to focus on his potion.

“I don’t know,” Granger answered. Even though Draco knew full well that she did.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine,” Draco answered.

“You seem very on edge lately. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Out of the corner of his eyes Draco could see Harry looking at him and Draco turned to face him and tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m fine, Harry. I’ve only realised something unexpected and disturbing and it’s confusing me.”

“Is it something that you want to talk about?”

Draco laughed a small laugh. “No. Definitely not. I’m fine. Just leave it. It’ll go away eventually.”

Harry frowned but turned to cut the ginger root.

 

After supper, in the common room, Draco was sitting in an armchair close to the fire. He had brought his Transfigurations text book to do some reading ahead since, for once, he was ahead with his homework, what with having spent most of his spare time that week huddled away with not much else to do. He didn’t get much reading done, though, as he kept getting distracted by the flames.

“Can we talk?” someone asked and Draco looked up. Granger. Of course. He should have known she wouldn’t be able to leave something like that alone.

“Not here,” Draco said firmly.

“Obviously.” Granger actually had the audacity to roll her eyes at him.

“Okay then. It’s after curfew so… My bed or yours?”

“Let’s try yours this time,” Granger said with a small smile. They both got up and headed for the Gryffindor boys’ dorm where they entered Longbottom’s bed and cast a silencing charm. On their way there they were observed by several sets of eyes.

“Okay,” Draco said as he sat down on the bed, resting against the headboard. “Spit it out.”

Granger was sitting cross legged on the opposite end of the bed. “I know you have a crush on Harry.”

“I know you do. Blaise said you might. Plus you’ve been staring. A lot.”

“Ah, yes. We seemed to have some sort of silent conversation after Harry had his little outburst on Friday.”

“Blaise does those a lot. I’m impressed you were able to understand what went on. Not many people do.”

Granger blushed at the praise. “Yes, well… Anyway, I have some things I would like to ask you if you don’t mind.”

“Ask away and we’ll see if I mind.”

“Okay then. How long have you had that crush?”

“I don’t know. I only figured it out last Friday when… Well, you were there.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been trying to break Harry and Ginny up?”

“Yes. I strongly dislike the Weaselette and I may have also voiced my opinion about her to Harry once or twice but I haven’t had an agenda.”

Granger considered him for a moment. “I think you should be together.”

“What?”

“And if I can, I want to help you get him.”

Draco was annoyed when he felt a blush creep up his neck. “Why on earth would you want to do that? He doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Not that he knows of, no. But I think he might. Subconsciously. Or he’s close to.”

“I would have thought you would want him to be with the – with Ginny. You know; you would marry Weasley and Harry would marry her and you would all live as neighbours in cute little cottages and have lots of ginger babies who would all be best friends.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think they’re good for each other. And I must admit that I’m really quite upset with her. Not only about the whole cheating thing but about the fact that she would guilt him into doing those things the Friday before last.”

“That was certainly some show.”

“It was. And I thought that it was very sweet of you to dare him to go to bed.”

Draco shrugged. “Well, you know. He was upset.”

“Exactly. And _you_ could see that.”

“She could as well, you know.”

“I know, but she should have realised beforehand that he would react like this. She is supposed to know him well enough to know that. And to take it seriously when he says no.”

Draco agreed on that one. “So… How is it that you think you’re going to help?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure something out. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly. “What do you want in return?”

 “I want a massage. A proper one. A backrub,” Granger said immediately and grinned.

“Shouldn’t Weasley be the one doing that?” Draco asked.

Granger’s cheeks went slightly pink. “Yes, well, he tried but… It needs a bit of practice. He’ll get there.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine. Lose the shirt and unhook your bra.”

“Excuse me?” Granger looked horrified.

“If you want it done properly there mustn’t be anything in the way, like a bra strap. You don’t have to take it off and you’ll be lying on your stomach. Plus, I’m not interested in you in the least.” Granger still hesitated. “But if you want I can just give you a shoulder rub instead?”

“No, I’d like a backrub.” Granger took off her shirt and lay down on her stomach. Then she bent her arms awkwardly and unhooked her bra on her back.

Meanwhile, making sure not to look at her undressing, Draco changed the lighting, conjuring little orbs filled with calming blue flames to create a soothing atmosphere. Then he accioed a vial of lavender scented massage oil, earning a raised eyebrow from Granger.

“What?” he asked. “One should be prepared for occasions such as these.”

“Do you have other scents available as well?” Granger asked with an amused tone to her voice.

“I do as it happens,” Draco answered. “I have citrus for energy enhancement and concentration, basil for anti-stress and soothing of soft aches, eucalyptus for colds and fevers if there’s no Pepper-Up to be had and ylang-ylang for shock and insomnia. I chose the lavender because it’s calming and generally good before bed but we can use one of the others if you’d rather.”

“No, no, I like the lavender. You come well prepared.”

“Always. Now, Granger, arms by your sides. I’m going to straddle your… behind… but I’ll try not to be too heavy.”

“You know,” Granger said. “Under the circumstances I think it’s about time you started calling me Hermione.”

“All right. Hermione.” Draco rolled up his sleeves and straddled her, though without sitting down on her. Hermione groaned as he put his hands on her back and started applying pressure. He was in the process of working his thumbs up on either side of her spine and was leaning over her, his thumbs placed where her bra had been fastened earlier and fingers grazing her ribs down her side.

He pressed down his thumbs and Hermione let a particularly loud moan of pleasure.

It would be at exactly that moment the drapes were yanked open. He blinked at the sudden strong light.

“What the FUCK is going on in here?” he heard Weasley say.

Hermione yelped and managed to throw Draco off her as she scooted up to sit at the headboard with her shirt covering her bosom and her bra straps sliding down her shoulders.

“This is _not_ what it looks like,” she said hurriedly.

“I should hope not,” Weasley said. Harry stood slack-jawed next to him. “So would you mind telling me what it _is_ then?”

“I, uh…” Hermione said.

“It’s a backrub, Weasley,” Draco answered, throwing his hands in the air. “Nothing else.”

“A backrub,” Weasley said sceptically.

“A backrub, yes,” Draco confirmed.

“What’s with the lavender smell?” Harry asked.

“It’s scented oil,” Draco answered. “For relaxation.”

“Why were you trying to get her to relax?” Weasley asked suspiciously.

Draco rolled his eyes. “So I could hypnotise her into falling asleep and then ravish her, obviously.”

Weasley’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Draco asked incredulously at Weasley’s shocked expression. “I’m not suicidal, you know. Plus, she’s not my type.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with her?” Weasley asked, looking affronted.

“Well, do you _want_ her to be my type?”

“No. I guess not,” Weasley answered, his look changing to confused.

“Could you all just clear out for a bit while I get dressed, please?” Hermione asked and Draco jumped off the bed, closing the drapes behind him.

The three teens were standing in the middle of the dorm looking at each other awkwardly.

“Why were you giving her a backrub?” Weasley asked eventually.

Draco sighed. “She was helping me sort through some personal issues and demanded one as a reward. You should be careful, Weasley. I think she might be getting addicted.”

“What personal issues?” Weasley asked.

“Personal ones,” Draco answered, unwilling to let Weasley of all people know the nature of said issues. Especially since the ‘issue’ was standing right there with them.

“I would have thought Malfoys don’t have issues,” Weasley said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley. Everybody has issues.”

“Why do you have scented oil?” Harry asked.

“Oils,” Draco corrected. “For occasions such as these where someone demands massages in return for their assistance.”

“Oh,” Harry answered. “Oils. You have more than one scent?”

“I do,” Draco answered just as Granger pulled open the drapes and joined them.

Weasley narrowed his eyes and looked at Draco suspiciously. “I’m watching you.”

Draco rolled his eyes in reply and then turned to address Hermione. “It goes without saying that the subject we were just discussing is confidential.” She nodded and smiled.

Then she cocked her head slightly and looked at him as if contemplating something. She turned to look at Harry. “You know, Harry, you should ask Draco to give you a backrub. You’ve been complaining about being tense for a while now.”

Harry frowned. “No I haven’t.”

“Well, you’ve been looking tense. And it’s really nice.”

Harry looked at Draco curiously. “So…” Harry said, shifting on his feet. “Does this mean you’re handing out backrubs? Apparently I need one,” Draco willed himself not to blush. He looked at Hermione who was smiling at him encouragingly.

“It might,” Draco said, not wanting to seem eager. “For a price.”

“Such as…?”

“Oh, you know; favours, blackmail material, useful intel – that sort of thing.”

“If you’ll do me I’ll owe you a favour,” Harry said. “I’m only a few short of being your slave for the rest of my life anyway.” Draco recalled a discussion on the subject from one of their detentions.

He smirked and then gestured to Harry’s bed. “Well then, lead the way, minion.”

“Good night, Draco,” Hermione said with a smirk on her lips as she pulled a frowning Weasley with her to go to the common room. “It was nice chatting with you. And good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Hermione,” Draco answered, earning surprised looks from both Harry and Weasley.

Draco was certain he heard her murmur “That was almost too easy” on her way out of the dorm.

When the door to the dorm had closed Harry pulled off his T-shirt and lay down on his bed face down.

“So, uh, which scent would you like?” Draco asked. He was suddenly nervous.

“Doesn’t matter. The same as Hermione.”

Draco got out the oil and once again changed dimmed lighting and conjured little orbs with blue flames in them. He cast a heat regulating charm and tried not to focus on the fact that Harry was lying on a bed partially undressed. He straddled Harry and began his ministrations.

He put his hands on Harry’s shoulder blades and moved with low, smooth strokes from the outside of the shoulders and towards the spine. He followed the muscles along the spine gently with his fingertips all the way to the tailbone where he let his hands slide over the top of Harry’s buttocks (but not so much that it would qualify as groping) and to the sides, earning a satisfied purring sound from Harry. He then ran them slowly up Harry’s sides until he reached the armpits. Draco rubbed Harry’s shoulders lightly and moved his fingers up to stroke along the middle of the neck to the skull edge.

Then he repeated.

Harry was groaning and almost purring quietly and sighing once in a while. “Do you do full body massages?” he asked after a while.

“I guess I could,” Draco answered, silently feeling giddy at the prospect of touching even more of Harry’s body. “Although I’m not touching your arse. That’s reserved for when we’re drunk.” The fact was, he wouldn’t mind at all touching Harry’s arse – he just didn’t want Harry to know that.

Harry chuckled and Draco’s stomach did the now obligatory flip flop. He un-straddled Harry, who quickly shook off his trousers and socks and resumed his position on the bed.

Draco parted Harry’s knees slightly and sat down between his legs.

He slid the palm of his hand up the lower part of the leg, doing one leg at a time. He slid his hands up to Harry’s knee and then continued up the back of the thigh, stopping right before he touched Harry’s crotch and instead let both his hands slide down the leg on the outside. He then did the other leg.

Harry was still groaning and sighing and sounded completely relaxed. It wouldn’t surprise Draco if he was drooling. “Should I get some firewhiskey or can I persuade you to do my arse as well?” he mumbled.

Draco hesitated. He really wouldn’t mind doing Harry’s arse but was a little concerned about the reaction of a certain body part. “I’ll do your arse,” he said in the end. “No need for whiskey.”

“Should I take off my shorts?” Harry asked.

“Uh…” Draco hadn’t thought of that. “It… might be easier if you did. Although I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Harry answered quickly. “ _I_ don’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable though.”

“I’m not,” Draco answered, even though he was a little bit.

Harry wriggled out of his shorts, still lying on his stomach on the bed. Then he reached down to adjust himself.

“Um,” Draco said, unable to look away from Harry’s arse. “So… Let me know if I… touch something accidentally.”

“How would I know if it’s accidental?” Harry said cheekily and Draco couldn’t help grinning.

“Believe me,” he said “It’ll be accidental.” Which it really would be. He had no intention of messing around with that part of Harry’s anatomy. At present.

Harry chuckled again then sighed deeply.

Draco parted Harry’s legs again and sat between them, trying not to think about the fact that Harry’s balls were positioned a mere ten inches or so away from him. He slid his hands down along the back on either side of the spine to the tailbone. He then moved his hands circling counter clockwise, eliciting a small whimper from Harry.

“I hope this isn’t the kind of massage you give your mother.” Harry’s voice was muffled and groggy.

Draco couldn’t help a small laugh. “Wow, Harry. Thank you for putting that disturbing image into my head.”

“Well thank goodness.”

Draco created smooth circular movements on the hipbone and round up above the buttocks. He repeated this a few times and then massaged each buttock with the heel of his hands in circular, kneading movements.

Draco had been right about a certain body part. He was hard as rock and wanted nothing more than to spread Harry’s buttocks apart and bury his tongue there.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “You can turn around now and I’ll do your front.” Draco was counting on the dimmed lighting to conceal his erection.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Of your legs. The front of your legs. Not the front of your arse,” Draco quickly corrected himself, earning a chuckle from Harry. “If you turn around we can get started.”

“Uh, I can’t right now,” Harry said, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Why?” Draco asked, although he did have an idea why.

Harry didn’t answer immediately. “Are you hard, Harry?” Draco asked. He tried to sound amused but his voice was strained and a little rough.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “But can you blame me? That was a very erotic massage.”

“I will have you know that that was not my intention,” Draco said, still sitting between Harry’s legs. “I can’t help it if you get turned on by my massages.”

“I suppose so,” Harry said. “Mr. Magic Fingers.”

Draco chuckled. “I really am amazing.”

“That you are,” Harry agreed, also chuckling.

After a while Draco cleared his throat. “It got me hard, too.”

Harry lifted his head from the bed and propped himself up on his elbows, trying to look at Draco over his shoulder. “It did?”

“Yes. But can you blame me?” Draco parroted. “You have a nice arse. And last time I was touching it was under very erotic circumstances.”

Harry lay down again, using his arm as a pillow. “Yeah. That was nice,” he said. Draco hummed in agreement.

“Um, so, I think I’ll just remove myself from the view of your balls.” Draco climbed over Harry’s leg and positioned himself on the edge of the bed and looking away from Harry. “You can put your pants on again now.”

He felt Harry bustle around on the bed.

“You can look now,” Harry said.” I’m under the covers.”

Draco turned around. Harry was lying under his covers which were pulled all the way up to his arm pits. He was blushing and avoiding eye contact. “I’ll just wait a bit to go out there. Till it’s subsided appropriately.”

“Déjà vu,” Harry said.

“Indeed.”

They waited for a while in silence.

“Still there?” Harry asked after a while.

“Still there,” Draco answered. And it didn’t feel like it was going to go away any time soon. Not with the knowledge that Harry was lying _right there_ , almost naked.

“You could always –“

“I’d rather not. I don’t want it to become a pattern.” Draco was sitting up straight, feeling very tense.

“Okay, well, you can lie down if you want,” Harry said quietly. Draco raised an eyebrow. “I mean, not under the covers, obviously. Just, you know, you might be more comfortable and be able to relax more.”

Draco really couldn’t see how being more comfortable and lying next to Harry would help him get rid of the impressive erection that still strained his trousers but he lay down nonetheless, folding his hands across his stomach and looking up at the blue orbs.

“Harry?” Draco said after a while.

“Yeah?”

“How are you feeling?”

“About?”

“Ginny. Your break-up. The things you did that Friday.”

“Oh. I feel better than I think I should, considering we were together for about half a year. I miss the friend I had before we started going out in the first place. And the person I knew this summer. I don’t miss the relationship. I really miss the sex, though…” Draco hummed in understanding, and Harry continued. “I don’t feel guilty about that Friday if that’s what you’re thinking. She wanted it so she got it. And she liked it.”

“You were scarily good at it,” Draco added.

Harry snorted. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

“Take it any way you like.”

“Was it very unpleasant to witness?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a few moments. “Yes. But mostly because it was obvious you didn’t want to do it. And especially afterwards. You were a total mess. That wasn’t very pleasant.”

“Yeah. Well, no more Mr. Potter I guess,” Harry said. “And most _certainly_ no more _Professor_ Potter.”

“I kind of like Mr. Potter,” Draco admitted.

“You do?”

“Yes. I think it’s hot when you get all dominating.” Draco blurted it out without thinking and blushed appropriately afterwards.

“Oh,” Harry said. Draco was still lying on his back but he could sense Harry’s frown.

“I said _Mr_. Potter. Not _Professor_ Potter.”

“So you like being dominated,” Harry said pensively.

“Well, I’ve never been ordered around so I really wouldn’t know. I just know that I’ve found it… interesting to witness.”

“Huh,” Harry said. He turned to his side, facing Draco. “I’ve been wondering… What was it like?” Draco looked at him questioningly. “The thing. Last Friday. When you, uh… sucked me off.”

“You already asked me that after I did it,” Draco reminded Harry.

“Yeah, but you only commented on the taste.”

“Well what do you want to know?”

“What did it feel like? Doing it.”

Draco wasn’t completely sure what Harry meant. “It’s hard to describe, really. A bit weird. It was heavier than I thought it would be; you know, the weight of your… thing. It was a bit difficult at first. I would have liked to swallow it all the way like Pansy does. That feels _very_ good,” (he heard Harry swallow) “but I imagine that takes practice.”

“You did quite well as it was, I’d say,” Harry said.

“Of course I did,” Draco said then added, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“This conversation is doing absolutely nothing to discourage my cock,” Draco said and Harry chuckled.

Draco tried imaging Umbridge naked, Hagrid naked, McGonagall naked, but images of Harry’s hard cock were making their way into his imagination.

“I could… Could I…” Harry said and then trailed off.

“I don’t know.” Draco all but whispered, holding his breath. “Could what?”

“I could try and do it to you,” Harry said. Draco looked to the side. Harry was still looking up and there was a distinct blush to his face that showed easily despite the dimmed lighting. “You know, to help. So you can get to bed.”

“Public service?” Draco asked.

“Exactly,” Harry said. “But if you’d rather not…”

“No no, it’s fine. You can… You can do it if you want.”

“Okay,” Harry said and sat up. “You should remove your clothes.”

Draco pulled off his slacks and pants. Then he pulled off his socks and shirt, because otherwise it would just look plain stupid. After he had undressed he sat up and pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging his legs and crossing his ankles to cover his cock and arse, suddenly feeling very naked – which, of course, he was. And awkward. Well, more awkward than he already was.

“Um, okay,” Harry said, scratching his hair. “I’m going to kiss you. I think. To ease the tension.”

“Yeah okay,” Draco answered.

Harry moved closer until he was sitting right in front of Draco. He leaned in, closed his eyes and parted his lips. Draco met his lips and felt electricity shoot down his spine and a thousand butterflies go mad in his stomach. He un-hugged his legs and brought his hands up to Harry’s shoulders. Harry leaned forward, carefully leading Draco to lie on his back.

Draco stretched out his legs as Harry pushed him backwards and settled a thigh between Draco’s, leaning on one elbow.

As the kiss grew more intense they began grinding against each other, creating much needed friction.

“Perhaps you should take off your shorts,” Draco panted. It wasn’t actually necessary for Harry to take of his pants but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Yeah, good idea,” Harry said in a husky voice and quickly shimmied them off.

They lined their cocks up against each other and began grinding again.

Harry’s leg was still resting between Draco’s and he was trailing his hand up and down Draco’s side. He slid his hand lower, grabbing the back of Draco’s thigh, hoisting it up so his leg was bent and the palm of his foot resting on the bed. Harry shifted a little to the side, lifting his own thigh a little and making room for his hand to slide between Draco’s legs to cradle his balls. He began nibbling and placing open mouthed kissed along Draco’s jaw line while he moved his hand lower to prod carefully at Draco’s tight entrance.

“Lube,” Draco gasped and Harry grabbed hold of his wand on the bedside table and accioed a small bottle of lube that came flying out of the drawer directly into Harry’s hand.

Harry sat up on his knees and pressed out a dollop which he coated his fingers with. Then he leaned back down, sucking on Draco’s collarbone while he carefully pushed one digit into Draco’s tight heat.

He moved it slowly in and out all the while searching for Draco’s prostate and still grinding their hips together. Draco was moaning and whimpering as immense heat spread inside of him. Harry pressed in another digit and started doing scissoring movements to stretch him.

Draco moaned loudly when Harry found his prostate, and Harry began massaging it carefully. He slid in a third finger and when the burning sensation had subsided Draco started pushing back on Harry’s fingers, whimpering and groaning.

Meanwhile Harry was kissing his way down Draco’s chest and stomach to his hipbone and down along the top of his thigh to his balls. He sucked one of Draco’s balls in, massaging it with his tongue, and then the other one.

He kissed his way up Draco’s shaft and to the head and sucked it into his mouth. Draco planted his hands in Harry’s hair and tugged at it lightly as Harry suckled on the head of his cock. He started bobbing his head up and down, gradually moving lower on Draco’s cock. Eventually he had nearly swallowed Draco to the root and was still working it with his tongue. Harry groaned and Draco could feel the vibrations on his cock.

“Harry?” he said, making a decision.

“Mm?” Harry answered, still bobbing his head up and down, twirling his tongue.

“Fuck me.”

Harry’s head snapped up immediately and he looked at Draco, eyes wide open and with lips puffy and red from sucking his cock. Draco thought it must be one of the most erotic things he had ever seen.

“Now?” Harry asked?

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Harry whispered, still looking Draco in the eyes.

Harry removed his fingers from Draco’s arse, leaving an odd emptiness. He picked up the bottle of lube again and pressed another dollop onto his fingers and coated his cock. They were holding eye contact and Harry was looking at Draco as if in awe, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Draco could only imagine what he looked like himself. Probably not much different.

“How do you want… Uh… How should we…” Harry asked.

“Like this. On my back,” Draco answered.

“Okay.”

Draco bent his other leg, placing his foot on the bed, and spread them. Harry kneeled between them and leaned over Draco, propping himself up on one elbow and using his other hand to line up his cock, and Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist, locking his ankles.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Harry said.

“I expect there will be some amount of pain,” Draco answered.

“Possibly. But let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Okay,” Draco agreed.

Draco felt Harry’s cock push at his entrance. It was big – much bigger than even three fingers and Draco tried not to tense up. He winced when the head pushed past the rim and Harry stopped moving immediately.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine. I’m fine. It’s a little painful.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Just…”

Harry leaned down and kissed Draco gently while slowly pushing further in, pausing after each inch or so to let Draco adjust to the sensation. It was more painful than Draco had imagined but he found that kissing Harry was a good distraction. When Harry was buried to the hilt he stayed still. Draco could feel him shaking, trying not to give in to the urge to just start thrusting.

“It’s okay,” Draco said, breaking the kiss. “You can move. Slowly.” And Harry started moving slowly.

Ever so slowly the feeling of discomfort began subsiding, being replaced by something much nicer. Harry began moving quicker, trying different angles in search of Draco’s prostate. He had stuck his tongue out slightly and scrunched up his nose in concentration. He looked adorable.

When Harry finally hit the little bundle of nerves Draco let out a loud moan and Harry smiled a crooked smile. He carefully picked up pace a little, trying to hit Draco’s prostate with every thrust.

Harry leaned back a bit and looked down. “Fuck that’s hot,” he whispered. “Pull up your legs.”

Draco unlocked his ankles and pulled his thighs up to his chest, exposing himself to Harry, who took a moment to take in the view then leaned in, so Draco’s legs were resting on his shoulders. He started thrusting again, still grazing Draco’s prostate.

“Harder. Faster,” Draco demanded, panting, and Harry obliged.

Draco was thrashing on the bed, reduced to a whimpering mess as Harry pounded into him faster and harder, and both boys were sweating like mad. Draco took hold of his cock, which rested heavily against his stomach, leaking pre-come. He stroked his shaft while meeting Harry’s thrusts, but his hand was soon batted away and replaced with Harry’s who worked him quickly and skilfully while slamming into him.

Draco could do nothing but surrender to the pure joy of the sensation of pleasure still mixed with a slight but insignificant burn. Harry’s thrusts were becoming erratic and his fist was working faster on Draco’s cock.

After a particularly hard thrust Harry stilled. His eyes shut tight and his mouth opened in a loud, hoarse moan. Draco felt the heat of Harry’s come pulse inside of him. Along with the sensation of Harry’s hand working his prick it was enough to push Draco over the edge and he came in long spurts that coated his stomach and chest, his arse constricting around Harry’s cock as he orgasmed.

After a few additional thrusts Harry released his grip on Draco’s legs and collapsed panting on Draco, smearing the come on Draco’s body onto his own chest and stomach.

“Fuck that was amazing,” Harry uttered after a while, still short of breath.

“Yeah. And unexpected,” Draco added.

Harry chuckled. “That too.”

Draco winced as Harry’s cock slipped out of him with a small ‘pop’ and he felt the come leaking out of him. “Get off me or you’ll smother me to death,” he said. Harry was quite heavy for someone so slender.

Harry rolled off him and lay on his back next to Draco, looking up. The orbs were still there, blue flames flickering and calming.

“Did it hurt?” Harry asked.

“I’d say there was a fair amount of pain, yes.”

“Sorry.”

“It was mostly at the beginning. Then it was really, really good. I’m sore now, though.”

Harry turned his head to look at Draco. “Stay.”

“Okay,” Draco said, smiling and choosing not to dwell on the fact that they would have to discuss this at some point and that Harry would most likely either just want a fuckbuddy or not want to repeat this at all. For now he climbed under the covers along with Harry.

“Turn around,” Harry said and Draco turned his back to him. He felt Harry’s fingers trailing patterns on his back for a while before he pulled Draco close and threw his arm over him, spooning him and burying his nose in Draco’s hair.

*

When Harry woke up it was to the feeling of muscle aches in places he didn’t even know he _had_ muscles. He still had his arm around Draco and smiled at the memory of last night’s activities.

Although it was a fond memory it was fair to say he was confused. He didn’t regret it at all and he did have a fluttering in his stomach that he thought he recognised as ‘something more’. It was, however, a big deal that would need dealing with.

For now, though, he decided just to enjoy waking up to the feeling of another body in his bed. Something like this was one of the things he had missed immensely in his relationship with Ginny.

It occurred to Harry right then that he had just compared waking up with Draco to his relationship with Ginny, and he decided that a discussion with Hermione would be necessary before he could even think about thinking about what had happened.

Harry used the hand that was currently draped over Draco to pull up the covers, covering their shoulders, as it was a chilly almost-winter morning.

He then draped his arm over Draco again, pulling him closer still and burying his nose in his soft, silk-like hair. He sniffed in and couldn’t help the small ‘mmm’ that escaped him when he breathed out. Draco’s hair smelled like… well, it smelled like hair, if hair has a smell, but also slightly citrusy.

“Are you smelling my hair?” Draco mumbled, sounding groggy.

“Would it be creepy if I said yes?”

“A tad.”

“Then no.”

Draco chuckled. “Your morning wood is poking into my back.”

“Sorry,” Harry said and moved back a little.

“That’s okay.” Draco stretched his arms over his head, arched his back and stretched his legs as he yawned and made a mewling sound. He reminded Harry of a cat. Then he relaxed again and moved backwards to once again being spooned by Harry.

Draco had positioned himself in such a way that Harry’s cock was nestled between his buttocks, his cockhead resting on Draco’s tailbone.

Harry was nuzzling Draco’s chest and belly, moving gradually downwards until his hand bumped his morning erection. Harry’s hand froze. He was holding his breath. Draco was lying completely still and Harry could tell that he was holding his breath as well. Harry tentatively let his hand brush against Draco’s cock again and Draco wiggled his bum ever so slightly in response.

Harry breathed out and took hold of Draco’s cock, stroking with languid strokes while Draco rocked his arse to let Harry’s cock slide up and down between his buttocks. Harry frotted against Draco while pumping his cock and soon they were both pulsing out their warm liquids, Harry on Draco’s back and Draco in Harry’s hand.

When the initial post orgasmic bliss had subsided Harry grabbed his wand from the nightstand and cast cleaning charms on both of them.

“I need to think,” Harry said. “About things.”

“That sounds sensible,” Draco answered.

Harry looked at Draco. “I don’t regret anything.”

“Neither do I,” Draco said and smiled.

Just then Harry heard Ron clear his throat just outside the drapes. “Harry? Are you in there?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Are you decent?”

“Again; yeah, why?”

“I’m coming in,” Ron announced.

“Shit,” Harry hissed as Draco quickly turned to lie on his stomach and pulled the covers up over his head, flattening his body as much as possible.

The covers were barely pulled up over Draco’s head when Ron poked his head in.

“What can I do for you, Ron?” Harry asked, still lying down with the covers pulled up to his chin as to not risk Draco’s exposure.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“All right, ask away.”

“But first, we have to have a serious talk about silencing charms.”

Harry paled. “Silencing charms?” he croaked.

“Yes. You seem unfamiliar with the concept so I’ll be more than happy to teach you at some point.”

“Um, so, uh, you heard?”

“Some. I put up a silencing charm for you. I lifted it just now.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Uh, when exactly did you put it up?”

“Just after Malfoy agreed to _‘_ do your arse’.”

Harry blushed and tried not to breath out his relief too loudly. “Thank you.”

“Speaking of – which leads to my question; do you know where Malfoy is? It seems he didn’t go to bed last night.”

“No,” Harry answered quickly. “How would I now that? I’ve only just woken up. What do you need him for anyway?”

“I wanted to interrogate him further about last night. You know, with Hermione.”

“Why? It was just a massage. It wasn’t what it looked like.”

 “I would hope not. Because it looked like he was doing her from behind while trying to fondle her breasts. Those are my breasts to fondle. It’s –“

Ron trailed off, looking somewhere next to Harry. Harry followed his eyes, seeing a tuft of platinum blond her sticking up from under the covers. “Is that… Is that Malfoy?” he asked incredulously. “Do you have Malfoy in your bed?”

Harry tried not to blush when he answered. “No, of course not. Now that you mention it I think I remember him saying that he was going to sleep in Parkinson’s dorm. With her. In her bed, so… Definitely not him.”

“Okay, but – then what is it?” Ron asked, still eyeing the tuft of hair.

“ It’s… my teddy bear.” Harry tried to look convincing.

“Your teddy bear?” Ron asked sceptically. “Its fur has a striking similarity with Malfoy’s hair, you know.”

“Uh… That’s because it _is_ his hair.”

“I… What?”

“Um, yeah. Uh, I… I think it’s pretty. And soft. And it smells nice. So I wanted that on my teddy bear as well.”

“Okaaay,” Ron said slowly. “How did you get it?”

“I stole it,” Harry answered promptly. Both of Ron’s eyebrows rose and he stared at Harry slack jawed. “Yeah, I cut it off in his sleep. It was easy once he started sleeping in our dorm. Uh, I’ve been keeping it in a jar until I had enough to charm it on as fur. So…” Harry stopped himself from babbling further.

“That’s disgusting, Harry,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose and glancing at the ‘teddy bear’ with a disgusted look on his face.

“It smells really nice, though,” Harry said.

“I think I’ll just go see Hermione,” Ron said, backing away slowly and holding eye contact. “You should get up soon if you want breakfast before class.”

“Absolutely. Save me a seat, would you? I’ll be right down.”

Ron closed the drapes again and Harry immediately cast a silencing charm. As soon as it was cast, Draco emerged from the covers and sat up, grinning. When they looked at each other Draco began to laugh.

“A teddy bear? Honestly Harry.”

“Hey, you try to come up with something on the top of your head. It’s hard.”

“I thought you managed splendidly.” Draco started laughing again and Harry frowned at him.

“Yes yes, ha ha. We should get up if we want breakfast.”

They both got up and after Harry had peeked out from the drapes they both stepped out of the bed and got dressed. They both resolved to shower later as they were seriously pressed on time. They walked to breakfast together.

“Try not to walk like someone fucked you in the arse,” Harry whispered to Draco on their way down.

“Someone did fuck me in the arse. It’s sore. I’m trying,” Draco hissed.

Harry couldn’t help a small smile.

They parted ways when they reached the Great Hall, Draco going to sit at the Slytherin table and Harry to find a spot across from Ron and next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table. As always, facing the Slytherin table.

“Good morning,” Harry said as he sat down.

“I see you found Malfoy,” Ron said.

“Yes. I ran into him on our way to breakfast.”

“Did you find out where he slept?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Ron answered. “I asked Parkinson and she confirmed it. Said she thought he’d already been to breakfast, though. Guess she was wrong.”

“Guess she was,” Harry said, looking over to the Slytherin table where Draco was sitting next to Parkinson who was staring directly at Harry, smirking. Harry blinked as she winked at him.

“When did you say you asked her about it?” he asked Ron.

“Right after I’d been to see you. I practically ran into her outside the dorm.”

“Huh.” Harry looked at Parkinson again who was now ruffling Draco’s hair and placing a kiss on his blushing cheek. Even though he knew there was nothing in it he still felt a pang of jealousy that took him by surprise.

“Hermione,” he whispered to her as Ron was stuffing his mouth with sausages. “I would very much like to talk to you as soon as possible. Alnone. Preferably before class. It’s extremely important.”

She smiled at him and nodded her consent.

“Ron, I just need to talk to Harry in private for a minute. You can just go ahead to the greenhouses and we’ll be right behind you,” Hermione said to Ron when they had finished breakfast and were getting ready to go to the greenhouses. Ron looked at her suspiciously. “I need to ask him something about the things he did with Ginny that Friday,” she continued to make sure Ron wouldn’t want to listen in. And quite rightly, he hurried towards the greenhouses without looking back.

“What’s up, Harry?” she asked.

Harry lowered his voice and dragged her along to stand away from the students milling down to the greenhouses. “Something has happened and I’m not quite sure what to think about it.”

“Would this something have to do with a certain Slytherin?” Hermione asked.

Harry blushed. “Yeah, it would.”

When Harry didn’t continue Hermione said, “And would you care to share what has happened?”

Harry blushed further. “It’s rather big.”

“Do you want me to have to guess or are you going to enlighten me? Because it’s going to be hard for me to give you advice if I don’t know what it’s about.”

Harry looked down and scraped at the ground with the nose of his shoe. “Well, do you remember I asked about a backrub last night when we were in the dorm?”

“Of course.”

“Well, um. It was really nice, so I thought I’d ask him if he did full body massages.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Oh? And did he?”

“He did. And it was really good. And I sort of got… um…”

“Aroused?”

“Yeah. When he did my arse.” (Hermione’s eyebrows rose further.) “And he did, too. And, well, obviously he couldn’t leave the bed with a… um…”

“With an erection.”

“Exactly. So I decided… We decided… uh…”

“To take care of it?”

“Yes.”

“How?” Hermione looked at him curiously.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Harry said, not meeting her eyes. “Anyway, we were going at it, you know, snogging and… stuff.”

“What stuff?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Hermione,” Harry said impatiently. “I was sucking him off and I had my fingers in his arse, okay?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, neither flinching nor blushing. “I figured you’d just resorted to mutual masturbation.”

“Yes, well, we didn’t. Anyway, he suddenly asked me to…” Harry trailed off and hoped that Hermione would figure it out by herself. He raised his eyebrows at her, hoping she would catch on.

“Have sex?” She asked, looking surprised. Harry nodded. “Oh. Did you?” Harry nodded again. “Oh Merlin. That _is_ big,” Hermione said. “That’s actually huge. I didn’t expect _that_.”

“I know, and now I don’t know what to think. Or do. I think I might like him. A lot. As in I think I might fancy him. What should I do?”

“I’m not quite sure what to say,” Hermione said. Then she frowned. “I thought Ron said Pansy said Draco slept with her last night.”

“That’s because I told him I remembered Draco saying last night that he would.”

“Why would you say that?”

Harry relayed the morning’s events to Hermione, leaving out the embarrassing part where he had tried to convince Ron that he had a teddy bear covered in stolen hair. “And then he ran in to Pansy outside the dorm. I think she must have been looking for Draco. And then Ron asked her about whether Draco slept in her bed last night and she said that he did. She must have caught on right away. That was some quick thinking.”

They began walking to the greenhouses at a slow pace.

“Now is the time you tell me what to think and do,” Harry said, still in a hushed voice, and Hermione laughed and put her arm around his waist. Harry put his arm around her shoulder.

“Do you regret it?”

“No. Like I said; I think I might fancy him,” Harry said.

“Well I think you’d make a lovely couple,” Hermione said and gave him a squeeze.

“But I don’t even know if _he_ likes _me_. Maybe he’s only interested in a fuck buddy.”

“I don’t think Draco wants to be your friend with benefits,” Hermione answered. “I think you’re both into each other.”

Harry’s stomach flip flopped at the thought that Draco might ‘ _like_ him-like him’. He couldn’t help a small smile. “But what should I do about Ron?” he asked concerned.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about him. He has admitted that Draco is ‘not half bad’, which in Ron’s book is the same as a stamp of approval,” Hermione said.

“But what should I do about Draco?”

“You just leave that to me, too.” Hermione gave him another squeeze.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Harry said, placing a kiss on her temple as they entered the greenhouses.

Harry found it difficult not to search out Draco all during Herbology and later on at lunch. Whenever they made eye contact they both quickly looked away, blushing. He was absolutely certain that he did not regret having sex with Draco but was concerned about what the other boy might think of the whole thing.

His last class of the day was Divination, which he did not share with Draco. He partnered up with Ron for the practical part of the lesson where their task was to read each other’s palms.

“Right, so, I foresee an early and violent death for you, mate,” Ron said. “How about you?”

“Same,” Harry said. “Sorry.” Ron shrugged.

“Is something going on between you and Malfoy?” Ron asked bluntly in a whisper after Harry had foreseen his death.

“What do you mean?” Harry whispered back.

“You’ve been staring at him all day. Not that that’s an unusual occurrence, it just seems to be a bit more than usual. Plus you blush every time he catches you at it, which also seems to be more than usual, meaning that he is staring at you as well. And you get all clumsy and fidgety.”

“Oh.” Harry had hoped no-one would notice. “Would it be terrible if something was going on? I mean, I’m not saying that there _is_. But if there _was_. Hypothetically.”

Ron eyed him suspiciously. Then his eyes widened. “That _was_ Malfoy in your bed this morning wasn’t it?” he whispered.

Even through the dimmed lighting in the Divination classroom Harry’s blush showed and answered for him.

“I _knew_ it,” Ron whispered and Harry couldn’t make out the tone of Ron’s voice. “Did you sleep together?” Harry nodded. “As in… sex?”

“We did,” Harry admitted, cringing, and Ron gasped, his eyes widening and jaw dropping. “Are you angry with me?”

Ron shook his head. “To be frank, I’m rather relieved you don’t actually have a teddy bear coated with human hair.”

Harry snickered. “You should have seen your face.”

“I thought you’d gone round the bend there.” Ron shook his head, chuckling.

“So you’re really not mad?”

“No,” Ron said and shrugged. “He’s a decent bloke after all. Who would have thought? I still think it’s a little soon after Ginny to be starting something new but after the things she said to you I can understand why you don’t need a ‘mourning period’. That, and things had been bad between you two for a while.”

“Thanks, Ron. Honest. But I don’t even know if there’s going to be a ‘something’. I don’t even know if he likes me like that.”

“But you like him like that,” Ron said and it was a statement more than it was a question.

Harry nodded and Ron continued. “I think you can be fairly certain that he likes you like that too. If you look at the things he has done for you these last couple of months.”

Before Harry could ask what things Ron was referring to, they were interrupted by Trelawney who wanted to hear their predictions. She was pleased with them both when they relayed their predictions of each other’s imminent deaths.

After Divination Harry and Ron went to study in the library. They were sitting across from each other at one of the more secluded tables. Harry was hoping to avoid Draco until Hermione had informed him about how she was planning to ‘deal with things’. She was going to meet Harry and Ron in the library when she had finished Ancient Runes.

However, when she turned up, she wasn’t alone but in the company of Draco, Parkinson and Zabini.

“That’s new,” Harry said as they approached the table.

Ron looked up at Harry’s words and looked over his shoulder. “Bloody hell.”

Hermione and the three Slytherins reached the table and Hermione somehow managed to manoeuvre everyone so that Draco was sitting next to Harry and Ron was flanked by Parkinson and Zabini. Hermione took the seat on Harry’s other side.

“Hello, Harry. Hello Ronald,” Draco said with a small smile.

“Hello Draco,” Harry said, blushing like a girl. “Parkinson. Zabini.”

“Ronald?” Ron asked, more than a little surprised at Draco’s use of his given name.

“Your girlfriend ordered me,” Draco explained. “And I’m not crossing her. She can be quite scary as I am sure you are aware.”

“Oh,” Ron said, looking to Hermione who just smiled at him encouragingly. “Well then. Hello Draco. Or should I call you Teddy?” he said with a smirk.

Both Harry and Draco blushed furiously and Parkinson and Zabini howled with laughter. Hermione looked confused as she hadn’t yet heard the story of the Draco-haired teddy bear. Ron relayed the story to her and she started laughing as well.

“Come on, it’s not that funny,” Harry said, scowling at them all. “I had to say something.”

“It actually was rather amusing,” Draco said, grinning. Harry scowled at him, though it wasn’t very convincing as the corners of his mouth were quirking upwards.

“Okay,” Parkinson said, smirking. “I think we’ve established that everyone here knows that Draco and Potter had sex last night.”

“Yes, yes, you are all very well informed. Now should we perhaps get some studying done?” Draco asked dryly. “I don’t particularly fancy getting detention for making noise in the library.”

They all brought out the homework they were each currently working on and settled down, either reading or studying.

Harry was concentrating on his Charms essay (so far he had only written the headline) when suddenly a word appeared on his parchment:

_‘Hey’_.

Harry rubbed his eyes, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He wasn’t.

_‘Hey’_ he wrote back.

_‘Are you okay?’_ the parchment asked. Harry was certain he recognised the fine, even handwriting as Draco’s.

_‘Fine. You?’_ he wrote back.

_‘Fine. So you told them?’_

_‘I told Hermione. Ron guessed.’_

_‘I always thought Hermione to be the more perceptive one.’_

_‘Ron is actually more perceptive than people think.’_

_‘That’s news to me, I’ll admit.’_

_‘Yes, well, what do you know – people can surprise.’_

_‘They sure can’_ the parchment answered.

_‘You told Parkinson and Zabini?’_

_‘Pansy guessed. Apparently she ran in to ~~Weasley~~ Ronald outside the dorm looking for me and guessed immediately when he asked if I had stayed in her bed. She then told Blaise.’_

_‘I figured she’d guessed. She winked at me at breakfast.’_

_‘Very clever that one.’_

_‘Apparently. So, still no regrets?’_ Harry asked the parchment and held his breath in anticipation.

_‘None. You?’_ Harry let out a sigh of relief at the answer.

_‘None’_ he wrote and thought he heard Draco breath out. However, that could have been his imagination.

Harry put his quill to the parchment again then hesitated. He held his quill to the parchment for a while, contemplating what to write, and a large ink stain eventually spread on it.

_You’re staining my parchment. Just write what it is you want to write.’_ Draco wrote.

_‘Sorry. I was just wondering whether you might want to do it again some time.’_ Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Malfoy smile.

_‘I could be persuaded.’_

Harry smiled. _‘How?’_

_‘How what?’_

_‘How could you be persuaded?’_ Harry clarified.

_‘Hmm… I’m not sure. You’d have to use your imagination I guess. Surely someone who convinces his friend that he has stolen hair to coat his teddy bear can think of something.’_

Harry grinned and carefully glanced around him to see if anybody was looking. Then he discreetly let his left hand slide under the table and unto Draco’s thigh, causing the blonde to gasp, trying to conceal it with a small cough. He let his hand slide to Draco’s inner thigh where he let it rest.

_‘Something like that?’_ he wrote.

_‘That’s certainly a start,’_ the parchment wrote back.

Harry slid his hand further up Draco’s inner thigh, nudging at him to spread his legs. Draco scooted his chair further towards the desk to conceal himself more from the other students at the table. Harry felt him up further, twisting his wrist in an awkward angle to be able to cup Draco’s growing erection. Draco let out a small whimpering sound which he, once again, tried to conceal as a cough.

Harry scratched lightly at the fabric of Draco’s slacks that was covering his cock. He ran his thumb over where he estimated the head to be and was rewarded with another gasp and the feeling of a wet stain where pre come was leaking out. Harry kept rubbing and eventually every visible part of Draco was flushed and his breathing heavy.

As Harry, even with his hand twisted in an awkward angle, managed to slowly and quietly unbuckle Draco’s belt, writing showed on his parchment. _‘Okay. I’m persuaded. You need to stop now or things are going to get awkward.’_

_‘No’_ Harry wrote and unhooked the clasp on Draco’s slacks then unzipped them.

_‘No?’_

_‘No.’_ Harry pulled the elastic band on Draco’s pants down, gaining access to his cock. He ran his thumb over the head as he started carefully moving his hand up and down Draco’s shaft.

Draco gasped and Harry increased the pace of his strokes.

_‘I’m serious, Harry. You need to stop. Now, or I’ll come.’_

_‘No,’_ Harry wrote, hoping Draco wouldn’t be too upset with him. Personally he found the thought of having brought Draco to the brink of orgasm in the middle of the library extremely arousing, and even more so the thought of Draco actually coming in the middle of the library.

“Oh Merlin,” Draco whispered quietly and Harry was almost positive he was the only one who heard.

_‘Move your chair closer to me.’_

Draco scooted his chair in further, so the edge of the table was pressing into his stomach. He then scooted it closer to Harry, enabling Harry to move his hand faster and more discreetly.

Draco had trouble refraining from thrusting into Harry’s hand and his teeth were digging into his lower lip from trying not to make a sound. He was breathing through his nose and his eyes were half closed. His hands were clenched into fists and planted firmly on the table on either side of his parchment.

When Harry let his thumb nail carefully graze the slit Draco stilled and Harry felt the warm fluids spilling into his hand. Draco’s eyes squeezed shut and he struggled not to groan loudly. Instead he made a strangled noise and covered his head with his hands. “Oh Merlin,” he said again, though a little louder and panting.

Parkinson who was sitting across from Draco looked up as Draco gasped. “Are you alright, Draco?” she asked.

“’M fine, ‘m fine,” Draco nodded without looking up.

Parkinson’s question had attracted the attention of the other four students at the table.

“Are you crying, Mal-Draco?” Ron asked incredulously. Harry looked at Draco and saw that if you didn’t know what had just happened it could, indeed, look as if Draco was crying.

Draco kept covering his face with his hands and resting his elbows on the table. “Um… Yes,” he said, his voice muffled by his palm. “I just realised that… that Christmas is upon us and I haven’t bought a single present yet.”

“Jeez, Draco, it’s nearly a month away. Relax,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Harry snorted as he suppressed a snicker. He dared a glance at the others at the table. Draco still had everybody’s attention, but at Harry’s noise Parkinson looked at him and her expression changed from concerned and surprised to a feral grin.

“Why, Potter, you are deliciously naughty,” she said approvingly, making Harry blush.

Hermione turned her head towards them, looking horrified. “Oh, Harry, no, please, tell me she’s wrong.”

“Um…” Harry said helpfully.

“Why you dirty bastard, Potter,” Zabini said, also grinning.

“What? I don’t get it,” Ron said. “What’s going on?”

“Oh god,” Draco groaned into his hands, shaking his head. “Is it impossible to keep _anything_ from _anyone_ around this table?”

“Perhaps if you didn’t do ‘anything’ _at_ the table, it would be,” Pansy said, snickering. “It’s not exactly the most discreet place, you know.”

Ron’s jaw dropped and he looked slightly disgusted. “Oh no, Harry, tell me you didn’t.”

Harry’s blush deepened and he looked down.

Resigned, Draco sighed and moved his hands below the table from whence they soon heard a zip and the clanking sound of a belt buckle. With feigned composure and without looking at any of the others Draco sniffed then dipped his quill in his ink and started concentrating on the essay he was working on.

“Honestly, Harry, in the library?” Hermione said, reproaching.

“I think what you mean, Hermione, is ‘honestly Harry, at the table?’” Ron said, directed at Hermione but looking at Harry.

Harry cleared his throat and took Draco’s example, starting to work on his essay without further comment.

“Oh, Potter,” he heard Parkinson say quietly, as if to herself. “You naughty, naughty boy.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has to be a glitch, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. I suddenly changed my mind about something in the chapter and found myself completely re-writing more than thirty pages.

Despite the intimate encounter in the library Harry was still uncertain as to what he and Draco were – or if they were anything at all for that matter.

Harry’s heart was pounding fast the rest of the day and his previous butterflies had turned to bats; what if Draco didn’t like him the same way Harry had discovered that same day that he liked Draco? What if this, to Draco, was just a one-time-thing? What if it wasn’t a one-time-thing but Draco only wanted Harry as a fuck buddy? What if Draco thought it was a mistake and never wanted to repeat it, despite what he had written in the library?

They didn’t really have time to talk properly as they studied until supper time.

After supper, back in the common room, Harry asked Draco if he would care to skip the night’s games and maybe find some place to talk instead, which Draco agreed to.

On that note they entered the dorm. As soon as the door was closed they fell into each other’s arms, kissing fiercely – a desperate kiss that included clanking of teeth and biting of lips, tongues battling for power.

Draco moved forwards, pushing Harry towards Harry’s bed where they both flopped down, Draco on top.

They immediately started grinding their hips together, still kissing, until Harry, without much effort, managed to flip Draco over, so that he was on top.

Draco spread his still clad legs and let Harry nestle between them, and they both resumed their grinding.

Harry latched on to Draco’s neck as he had done so many times before and began sucking and nibbling there.

Draco’s one hand was placed in Harry’s hair, pulling it lightly, while the other hand snuck its way down the back of Harry’s trousers, holding on to one of his arse cheeks, squeezing and massaging it.

Harry’s elbows were resting firmly on the bed next to Draco’s shoulders.

After a few moments’ kissing, sucking, nibbling and grinding, Draco suddenly stilled.

“Wait, stop,” he said, panting, and Harry stilled immediately, fearing that he had somehow taken something for granted – that Draco didn’t want this and that he had picked up the wrong signals.

He was in the process of trying to figure out how he could have picked up wrong signals when Draco asked, “Do you want to go take a shower?”

“Are you telling me I stink?” Harry asked, not sure whether to laugh or be insulted.

Draco laughed. “No, you dolt, I meant; do you want to take one together? We didn’t exactly have time to shower this morning. I thought it might be nice.”

“Oh,” Harry said sheepishly and gave Draco a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Harry leaned down and placed a chaste, soft kiss on Draco’s mouth before he got up. After Harry had removed his body from on top of Draco, Draco got up as well.

They stood looking into each other’s eyes. Harry was mesmerised by Draco’s. His pupils were dilated with desire and Harry assumed that his were much the same.

“You’ll need to remove your clothes,” Harry said, his voice cracking.

“So will you,” Draco answered in what was barely a whisper.

They moved towards each other and as if on cue reached out to once again meet in a bruising kiss.

They pulled and tugged at each other’s clothes as they moved towards the door to the communal showers, all the while trying not to break the kiss.

Their impatient fumbling and the fact that they were both reluctant to break the kiss made it difficult to get rid of their clothes and eventually Draco pulled out his wand and spelled it off. Harry couldn’t help laughing as their clothes began folding themselves neatly and settle into two piles – one with Harry’s clothes and one with Draco’s.

“Neat-freak,” he said and grinned as he nibbled Draco’s lower lip.

“You like it,” Draco answered and Harry could feel Draco’s grin against his lips.

“I do,” Harry said, also grinning.

They reached the showers practically without letting go of one another and Harry soon found himself pinned to the wall, his wrists above his head as Draco pressed his body against his.

The communal showers were a series of shower heads attached to the wall and placed at approximately four feet’s distance between each, and the only privacy being a thin shower curtain between and in front of each. Quite shabby for a school of witchcraft and wizardry, Harry thought.

Draco reached into the ‘cubicle’ next to the one they were currently occupying and turned on the water, holding Harry’s wrists in place with one hand. He held his other hand under the water until it reached the desired temperature. Then he dragged Harry under the water, and they resumed their kissing.

The two teens took turns washing each other down to every crevice. Then Draco fell to his knees and Harry gasped as a tentative tongue flicked out and licked the head of his erect cock. Draco looked up at Harry, water cascading over him.

“I would like you to fuck my mouth the way I fucked Pansy’s that time.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked in a near whisper, hoping that he was.

“Yes,” Draco answered. “I’ll scratch you or something if it’s too much. Just promise to let me breathe once in a while.”

Harry nodded, more than willing to risk a little scratching if it meant he would get to have his cock buried in Draco’s mouth. He moved his hands to rest on the back of Draco’s head and pushed at it carefully. Draco opened his mouth and moved with Harry’s push. Harry watched as his cock entered Draco’s mouth. He held Draco’s head in place as he began thrusting in and out, carefully at first, not wanting to harm him.

Draco moved his hands up Harry’s thighs and up to his arse cheeks. He let his hands caress Harry’s arse. Then he parted the cheeks and let the fingers of one hand enter the crack. He prodded at Harry’s puckered hole with his middle finger, gradually increasing the pressure, causing Harry to deepen his thrusts into his mouth.

When Draco’s finger entered him, Harry made a deep thrust, forcing his cock down Draco’s throat. Harry groaned as Draco gagged, the contractions of Draco’s throat constricting around his cock.

Harry looked down and whimpered at the sight of Draco’s mouth wide open around the base of his cock. He pulled out allowing Draco to gasp for air.

“All right?” he asked.

Draco nodded and gave him a lopsided smile before he opened his mouth again. Harry allowed his head to fall backwards and opened his mouth slightly. Then he thrust back into the heat of Draco’s mouth and pushed down into the tightness of his throat.

They worked up a rhythm, Harry thrusting all the way down a couple of times, then letting Draco breathe. Meanwhile Draco finger fucked Harry, occasionally brushing his prostate and eventually adding another and then a third finger. At the entrance of the third finger and a brush of his prostate Harry came, shooting his come directly down Draco’s throat.

Harry held Draco’s head tight in place until he had emptied himself, and Draco gasped loudly as Harry pulled out. He let his head rest against Harry’s thigh for a moment, regaining his breath before he looked up. Then he pulled out his fingers and stood up.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked.

Draco coughed and smiled. “Absolutely.”

Harry couldn’t help snickering at the sound of his voice. “Are you sure? You sound weird.”

Draco cleared his throat again. “Of course I sound weird, dimwit. You just had your cock down my throat,” he said, sounding a bit more normal.

Harry smiled. “That was incredible.” He leaned in and kissed Draco, tasting himself on his tongue.

“Now turn around,” Draco ordered and Harry acquiesced immediately, resting his forearms against the wall and his head on his forearms.

Draco ran his middle finger between Harry’s arse cheeks again and gently massaged the rapidly contracting hole.

“Do you think soap will do? Or should we get some lube?” he asked Harry.

“I guess soap should be fine,” Harry answered and Draco squeezed out a generous amount of the container. He carefully worked Harry open again, and Harry found himself beginning to harden again under Draco’s ministrations.

It took a while for Draco to decide that Harry was properly prepared and Harry began worrying that perhaps it had been more painful than Draco had let on.

He tensed up as he felt the head of Draco’s cock pushing at his entrance and Draco halted. He leaned in and placed kisses down Harry’s neck and onto the crook of his neck which he started sucking and grazing with his teeth. Meanwhile he stroked Harry’s lower back with the hand that wasn’t currently holding on to his own cock, holding it in position.

After a few moments’ soothing Harry relaxed again and he wiggled his arse a little to show Draco that he was ready. He winced as he felt the head enter him. He could tell by Draco’s ragged breathing on his neck that he was struggling not to move in further until Harry gave his permission.

After a moment Harry wiggled his arse again to let Draco know that he could move. Draco entered slowly and Harry tried to relax through the stinging and odd feeling of being filled out.

When Draco was buried to the hilt he halted again, letting Harry decide when he was ready for him to move. Again, Harry wiggled his bum as a silent permission and Draco slowly began moving.

Draco snaked one arm around Harry’s pelvis, holding him in place, and his other hand found its way to Harry’s cock. His erection had flagged considerably at the stinging pain but quickly returned at Draco’s touch.

After a while the unpleasant feeling started to subside and Harry began pushing backwards, meeting Draco’s thrusts. Draco was trying various angles in search of Harry’s prostate and eventually found it, making Harry moan loudly. He felt Draco smile into his shoulder as he continued thrusting in that angle.

“Harder,” Harry panted and Draco naturally obliged without complaint, working his hand up and down Harry’s cock.

They were both panting and would, if not for the water still running over their bodies, be covered in sweat.

Draco picked up pace, ramming his cock into Harry’s arse. He moved his arm from Harry’s pelvis and placed it on his hip, allowing him to increase the force and depth of his thrusts. Harry reached down and guided Draco’s other hand away from his cock and onto his other hip to allow him an even steadier grip and a way to deepen his thrusts even further.

Then he began wanking himself, already nearing his climax. He soon felt a pool of heat in his stomach. His toes curled as his balls drew up, and his arse was soon constricting around Draco’s cock.

Draco whimpered at the feeling and thrust in a few more times before he slammed his cock into Harry’s arse and came buried in the tight channel. Harry felt the heat of Draco’s come spilling into him as Draco leaned over and held on tight around Harry’s chest and waist, convulsing violently and letting out a long, hoarse moan.

They stood like that for a while, both of the, out of breath, until Draco’s cock exited Harry with a squelching sound and Harry felt the come running down his thigh.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Harry said, turning around and grinning like a loon.

Draco grinned back. “It really was.” He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. “You should wash your arse.” He wrinkled his nose. Harry laughed but did nonetheless.

After they had finished washing they both got dressed.

“Do you want to go to the kitchens?” Harry asked.

“The kitchens? Now?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Isn’t it common to get a snack after you shag?”

“Where on earth did you get that from? Is that something you usually do?”

“Not really,” Harry admitted. “But I could really do with a piece of treacle tart if they have some. And a nice, strong cup of tea. And perhaps a sandwich. With tuna. And a large glass of ice cold pumpkin juice.”

Draco stared at him suspiciously. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asked.

“What? Men can’t get pregnant,” Harry answered with laugh.

“But you’re not an ordinary man,” Draco explained. “You’re a wizard. And wizards can if they have the right constitution. Easily.” His eyes widened. “Oh Merlin, you don’t have… No, never mind…” he trailed off.

Harry felt panic starting to rise. “What? Have what? What is it?” His voice was high pitched and panicked.

Draco worried his lip and looked at Harry uncertainly. After a few moments his expression turned into a wide grin. “I’m just messing with you,” he said, laughing. “Merlin, you’re easy.” Then he left the dorm, laughing and leaving Harry to feel a mixture of immense relief, affront at being messed with and stupidity for (almost) believing such an utterly ridiculous thing.

“You’re an arse,” he said as he caught up with Draco on his way out of the portrait hole.

Draco laughed again. “You should have seen your face.”

They walked on in amicable silence, their shoulders and hands occasionally brushing each other.

The way their hands would occasionally brush had Harry thinking of the detention they had spent lying on a blanket, their little fingers intertwined and he couldn’t help a small smile at the memory.

He cast a glance towards Draco from the corner of his eye just as Draco did the same. Harry looked away and smiled again. He felt like a pre-teen; not quite knowing how to act when walking next to the person you liked and who most likely liked you right back but also didn’t know how to act.

Eventually he summoned up his Gryffindor courage and took hold of Draco’s hand, intertwining their fingers and hoping Draco was alright with it.

It seemed that he was. Draco gave his hand a light squeeze, and Harry gave a squeeze back in return. Draco then started lightly brushing Harry’s hand with his thumb.

Harry leaned in and on purpose lightly bumped his shoulder against Draco’s, who responded with another squeeze.

They walked along quietly, hand in hand, until they reached the kitchens, where the house elves were more than happy to supply them with whatever they desired.

“You have an unnatural and unhealthy relationship to treacle,” Draco said after having observed Harry ignoring the tuna sandwich he had requested and instead helped himself to a second large piece of treacle tart.

“How on earth do you come to that conclusion?” Harry asked. “I’ve only had two pieces. That doesn’t necessarily make an unhealthy relationship. Besides, I’d describe your relationship to bacon as even more unhealthy.”

Draco cocked a brow and looked at him curiously.

“I may or may not have picked up on a few of your food habits over the years,” Harry admitted.

“Well,” Draco answered, “I guess I may or may not have picked up on a few of _your_ food habits over the years as well, hence the comment on your addiction to treacle.”

“Addiction is it now?” Harry asked, then added, “Stalker.”

Draco snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

Harry chuckled at that.

They sat in the kitchens making small talk for quite a while, until they decided it was time for bed and headed back to the common room.

It had got late without Harry and Draco noticing, and the people participating in the game had also begun heading off for bed.

When in the dorm, all his dorm mates getting ready for bed, Harry discarded his clothes and crawled into bed clad only in his boxers. He watched as Draco undressed himself and carefully folded his clothes even though it was going to get picked up by the house elves (Harry usually just threw his on the floor).

When he had dressed down to his boxers Draco looked apprehensively at Harry with a small frown. He opened his mouth, hesitated then closed it again. In reply Harry scooted to the side and held up the far corner of his covers, and they both smiled as Draco walked over and lay down next to Harry.

Dean and Seamus looked at them, bemused. They, of course, didn’t know of the interaction Harry and Draco had had last night and earlier that same day – and evening for that matter – and were confused as to why Harry would suddenly invite Draco into his bed.

They were, of course, aware that neither boy had joined that night’s game but since Harry and Draco were now known to be friends, they hadn’t thought it odd that they had chosen to do something else together.

Ron groaned. “At least shut the drapes, would you? And for Merlin’s sake, put up a silencing charm.”

“Yes, Ronald,” Draco said as Harry laughed.

“And let Mal-Draco do it.”

“Yes, Ron,” Harry answered, blushing slightly.

As they closed the curtains Harry thought he heard Dean ask quietly when on earth _that_ had happened, and since when Ron had started calling Malfoy Draco. Ron mumbled something unintelligible in response.

Drapes shut, silencing charm cast and a little orb with blue flames conjured by Draco, they lay looking at each other without speaking for a while.

Then Harry leaned in and kissed Draco softly and Draco responded immediately. It was a soft kiss with only a little tongue but it sent Harry’s stomach flip flopping like mad and the butterflies go crazy.

His breath shivered as he sighed and he felt Draco smile against his lips. Draco placed a few more soft pecks on his mouth then turned around to lie with his back to Harry.

“Stroke my hair,” he ordered, making Harry smile.

“What do we say?” Harry asked.

“Stroke my hair, minion.”

Harry laughed. “Not exactly what I was looking for.”

“Underling?” Draco suggested.

“Also not the word.” Harry smiled again. “Come on, Draco, what’s the magic word?”

Draco let out an exaggerated sigh. “Please.”

Harry began stroking Draco’s soft silken hair and Draco made a soft, purring sound, which made Harry smile.

As he was stroking Draco’s hair, it occurred to Harry that they had ended up not really discussing the status of their relationship after all. If, indeed, it was a relationship.

So, once again using his Gryffindor courage, Harry asked, “Draco?”

Draco hummed in reply and Harry continued. “Do you think…? Would you… would you consider maybe going out with me sometime? Like on a date? I mean, you don’t have to, obviously, if you don’t want to. It’s okay if you don’t want to. Of course you don’t want to. Why would you. It was a stupid suggestion. Forget I asked.”

“I would love to,” Draco said quietly.

“You would?”

“I would.”

“Good. I’ll just stop babbling then.”

“You do that.”

Harry scooted closer to Draco, spooning him and draping his arm around his waist. Draco took hold of his hand and pulled it upwards so Harry’s arm was caressing Draco’s torso. Draco then placed his own arm on top of Harry’s and intertwined their fingers against his chest.

Harry placed a kiss on Draco’s neck and snuggled into him. He was deliciously warm. Harry fell asleep smiling.

*

Draco awoke well rested and content with Harry’s arm still draped over him and Harry breathing into his neck. He carefully turned to lie on his other side, trying not to wake up Harry in the process, and lay looking at Harry as he slept on. His long black eyelashes rested against his cheeks and his mouth was slightly open.

Eventually Harry began stirring and slowly opened his eyes.

“Hello you,” Harry said and grinned at Draco.

“Hello,” Draco grinned back.

They lay for a while without talking, just looking at each other.

“Draco?” Harry said.

“Harry?” Draco responded.

“What are we?”

Draco considered the question. “I don’t know. But I seem to recall you asking me out on a date. So I guess we could be dating. If you want to.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said and smiled.

“And Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks so you can take me out then.”

“I’m not taking you to Madam Puddifoot’s,” Harry stated firmly.

“I am very glad to hear it,” Draco answered.

Harry scooted a little closer to Draco and began trailing his fingers up and down Draco’s side and down to his hip and thigh. “So… That morning wood you suffered from yesterday, is that a regular occurrence or was it a one-time thing?”

“The morning wood _I_ suffered from? As I recall, you were the one whose wood was poking into my back,” Draco answered but pressed his body flush up against Harry’s, poking Harry’s erection with his own.

Harry grinned and pushed Draco onto his back. “I believe I owe you a blowjob.”

He reached for the elastic band on Draco’s pants and pulled them down. Draco kicked his legs to remove them entirely.

Then Harry descended his mouth on Draco’s cock, trying to – and succeeding in – imitating what Draco had done to him yesterday.

Draco’s hands were buried in the unruly bird’s nest that was Harry’s hair and he was thrusting up into Harry’s mouth, Harry swallowing him all the way.

Harry reached into his own pants to gain access to his own cock and began stroking himself while working his mouth on Draco’s cock.

Draco looked down and nearly came at the sight of Harry’s mouth wide open, lips stretched taut around his shaft, and thrusting into his own fist as he fondled Draco’s balls with his other hand.

He kept his eyes trained on Harry wanking. As Harry’s hand began moving more frantically he also began making small noises and groans in the back of his throat.

It was the combination of the vibrations and sound of these noises, the sight of Harry touching himself, the feeling of Harry’s finger brushing over his puckered hole and the sound and facial expression as Harry came that pushed Draco over the edge.

He fisted Harry’s hair, holding his head firmly in place as he thrust wildly into Harry’s mouth before he emptied himself, shooting his come directly down Harry’s throat.

When Draco had finished, Harry pulled off with a loud gasp for air.

“Sorry,” Draco said, sending Harry an apologetic and slightly worried smile. “I got carried away.”

“That’s okay,” Harry whispered, not trusting his voice. “I thought it was hot as hell.”

Draco smiled as he picked up his wand from the bedside table and cast a few cleaning charms on them.

They both pulled on their pants again before Draco lifted the silencing charm and pulled open the drapes. As they emerged from Harry’s bed they were met with stares from both Thomas and Finnigan who were currently going through Finnegan’s trunk, looking for something or other.

Not that either of them noticed as they couldn’t stop looking at each other. Draco had a feeling he was grinning like a loon and was pleased to find that Harry looked the same.

They both gathered a towel and their personal care items – in Harry’s case a single bottle of shampoo and in Draco’s several bottles of various sorts of hair care products and lotions.

Then they headed for the shower.

Having just come, neither of them initiated another sexual encounter. Instead they went into the same cubicle and took turns washing each other. Draco refused to touch Harry’s abysmal generic shampoo and so resorted to treating him to his own luxurious products.

After having washed each other down they stood for a while embracing each other, the water cascading over them.

Draco sought out Harry’s mouth in a passionate kiss, and they were soon grinding their crotches against each other, seeking release for the second time that morning – you know; just for good measure, since it would be a waste to not take advantage of the opportunity, seeing as they were already naked.

 

“What do you want to do today?” Harry asked as he was putting on his trousers back in the dorm, which was now empty.

“Haven’t thought about it,” Draco answered, his voice muffled by the cashmere sweater he was currently pulling over his head. “You?”

“I was thinking maybe we could go for a picnic,” Harry suggested.

“Outside?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Well, yeah, we could get something from the kitchens and then go find a nice spot. Down by the lake or something.”

“Harry. It’s snowing. A lot.”

“We could bring blankets and use warming charms and put on lots of clothes and only bring warm foods and drinks,” Harry suggested, “and maybe we could even build an igloo and sit in. And you could conjure some of those pretty orbs with flames in them…” He trailed off.

“What’s an igloo?” Draco asked, puzzled.

“Sort of an Eskimo house,” Harry explained. “It’s shaped like a sort of globe. Well, half a globe. It doesn’t have to be an igloo. We could build a snow castle or something….”

Draco couldn’t help a fond smile. “You want to go outside in the freezing cold, build a snow house and sit there and have a picnic?”

Harry suddenly looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I mean, I thought it would be, you know… romantic.” His voice was nearly a whisper in the end and he was blushing adorably and worrying his lower lip.

Draco’s stomach unexpectedly did a flip flop at the thought that Harry wanted to do something romantic with him, and he suddenly felt guilty that he had (nearly) mocked the suggestion.

“Sounds perfect,” he said. “Let’s do that.”

Harry beamed at him, and Draco’s stomach did another flip flop. He pulled Harry close and they hugged – a warm, comforting, perfect hug, both of them standing with their eyes closed and heads resting on each other’s shoulders. Draco felt Harry’s head shift and heard him breathe in heavily.

“You’re sniffing my hair again, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Harry answered and breathed in again.

Draco smiled. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you really _did_ have a jar full of stolen hair.”

Harry chuckled and Draco felt the vibrations against his neck. Then Harry tilted his head upwards. “Don’t need it. I have the original,” he said, his lips moving against Draco’s ear.

They were standing like that when the door to the dorm opened and Ronald walked in.

“You do realise you missed breakfast, right?” he asked.

“Mhm,” Harry hummed as confirmation without letting go of Draco. “Have fun at the game last night?”

“We didn’t join,” Ronald said. “We just went to Hermione’s room and talked all evening.” He smiled a small, fond smile at the memory.

“Right,” Draco said sceptically. “Talked.”

Ronald blushed. “For the most part, yes. Anyway,” he changed the subject, ”Harry; Hermione says to tell you that you need to practice your basic NEWT level knowledge on the most known and used ingredients and their interactions for Potions and that you need to finish your Defence essay. Or something like that. She wants you to join us in the library.”

Draco snorted at the thought that Hermione was keeping such a close watch on Harry and Ronald’s homework and general knowledge situation.

“Can’t,” Harry said. “I have a date.” That statement warmed Draco’s entire body and he couldn’t help placing a small kiss on Harry’s mouth. He felt Harry smile against his lips.

“A date?” Ron asked.

“It’s when two people who like each other decide to do something nice together,” Draco explained.

“I know what a date is, you idiot,” Ronald said, rolling his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re going on a picnic,” Draco answered.

“Outside?” Ronald asked.

“Obviously.”

“You’re barmy, the both of you,” Ron stated firmly

“I can write the Defence essay in no time,” Harry said to Ronald, getting back on topic, as he reluctantly pulled himself away from the embrace, so they were both free to don warm woollen sweaters and their winter cloaks, mittens and scarves. “And Draco’s smart. He’ll teach me the Potions thing later.” Harry smiled at Draco and pecked him on the lips.

“I really am,” Draco agreed, smiling. Harry rolled his eyes at him but smiled back.

“Not as smart as Hermione,” Ron said firmly, arms crossed.

“A close call, I’d say. But a way better teacher,” Harry said, also crossing his arms. Then he seemed to realise that he had just slighted Hermione’s skills. “Don’t tell her I said that,” He quickly told Ronald, who snorted.

“Of course not. I’m not crazy.”

“Right then,” Draco said. “Do you two want to go on with the whole my lover is smarter than your lover or should we get going, Harry?”

In response, Harry pecked him on the mouth again and took his hand. Together they went in to the common room, which they crossed without really noticing the stares and whispers that followed in their wake.

They climbed out of the portrait hole and headed for the kitchen where they stocked up on various food items and hot drinks. Draco transfigured a bowl into a picnic basket and cast a stasis spell on it to keep the foods and drinks warm, and out they went.

*

As it turned out, building an igloo or a snow castle was rather more difficult than he had thought and they quickly abandoned the attempt. Instead, Draco conjured a vast amount of blankets which he waterproofed – more or less successfully – and they sat on the ground on some of them, and huddled up in the rest as they had their lunch.

They sat the rest of the day in the common room in a sofa in front of the fire, Draco’s head in Harry’s lap and Harry gently stroking Draco’s hair.

Draco’s eyes were closed, and he was making a sort of contented purring sound that once again reminded Harry of a cat.

At one point Seamus walked up and stood in front of them.

“So… This…” he said, pointing from one to the other with his index finger, “Are you going out?”

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“As in dating?”

“Yes,” Harry said again.

“Okay.” Seamus shrugged and walked away.

 

On Sunday Draco forced Harry to come along to the library, where they were going to meet up with Ron and Hermione.

“I can’t believe you need Hermione to keep track of your homework situation,” Draco said on their way to the library.

Harry shrugged. “She does it gladly and it saves me the trouble. You can do it for her if you want.”

Draco snorted. “Well, lucky me. I think I’ll just let her have her kicks.”

Ron and Hermione were already there and had sat themselves at a secluded table in the back of the library. As they sat down to join them Harry thought he saw Draco raise his brow at Hermione.

“Really Hermione?” he said, indicating that Harry had been right about the brow. “ _This_ table?”

Hermione blushed slightly. “What? It’s secluded.”

“It’s bad luck is what it is,” Draco muttered.

Both Harry and Ron narrowed their eyes and looked at the two suspiciously.

“What did you two get up to here?” Ron asked.

He suddenly yelped as if having been kicked under the table, and Hermione gave Ron a pointed look. The meaning of what she was trying to convey suddenly seemed obvious to Ron, whose eyes widened drastically.

“Oh,” he said meaningfully and nodded.

“Oh what?” Harry asked, still baffled as to what was going on. “What’s going on?”

Draco looked at him calmly. “This is where Hermione told me that she knew _exactly_ what happened that night after detention when we fell asleep in the common room.”

Hermione suddenly grinned. “That’s not even a lie,” she said, beaming at Draco.

“I know,” Draco said, dipping his quill in his ink. “We’ll discuss the most common ingredients and their interactions later, Harry. Now write your essay.

Harry still thought it odd that the place where a relatively innocent admission had taken place should cause such strong reactions with his friends but decided to shrug it off.

 

The following week went by quickly. Harry was so happy he almost felt sick, and he and Draco rarely left each other’s sight.

They would fall asleep together every night in Harry’s bed after having amazing sex. Occasionally – well, frequently – they would be struck by a sudden need to feel each other and would resort to a quick ‘grinding session’, hand job or blowjob in between classes.

Being December, the castle was rigged with mistletoe and Harry and Draco made an effort to seek out as many as possible.

At meal times they would sit so they were able to look at each other across the Great Hall. Of course, they had always sat in a position that made it possible to look at the other, only now they did it without scowling or sneering or frowning, and without hurrying to look in another direction when they got caught staring.

Ron and Hermione had taken to sitting next to each other in front of Harry but with a distance between them to allow Harry to look across the Great Hall to seek out Draco unhindered.

They had tried sitting directly in front of him, but after a few episodes of Harry craning his neck to look around them while still trying to eat his supper, and the supper had somehow ended up on his robes or down his tie, they resorted to the current seating arrangement.

Due to the fact that Hermione and Ron had taken pity on him and were now always sitting across from Harry, with a small gap between them, he was allowed a clear view to Draco at every meal.

It was Friday at supper when his view was suddenly blocked. He craned his neck to look around whoever had the audacity to position themselves directly in front of him, and sought out Draco again.

However, Draco was now frowning and looking slightly odd and Harry directed his attention to the person who had squeezed in to the relatively small gap between Hermione and Ron.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny smiled at him.

“Hello Ginny,” Harry answered, not returning her smile. “How may we help you?”

Ron and Hermione were trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening and were focusing on continuing eating their supper in awkward silence, both obviously listening intently while pretending not to.

“You look very happy these days,” she said, cocking her head and still smiling.

“I am,” Harry answered, still not smiling.

“Good. I’m glad,” Ginny answered.

“What do you want, Ginny?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance from his voice.

“Okay, I’ll jump straight to it.” Ginny folded her hands in front of her on the table. “I want to apologise.”

Harry looked at her sceptically. “You want to apologise.”

“I do. I feel like some of the things I said to you that day were rather harsh, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I owe you an apology.” At this point her eyes involuntarily darted down the table. Harry followed her eyes and saw Neville sitting very still a few seats down and pretending not to listen, and Harry wondered if he was the one who had urged Ginny to apologise.

“I don’t want your apology,” Harry told her.

“Harry, please,” she said quietly. “Can’t we just meet up and talk a little. Straighten things out. Leave things in an amicable manner. Tomorrow maybe?”

Harry sighed. “Fine.”

They agreed on a time and place and Ginny left, leaving Harry feeling uncomfortable.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Harry,” Hermione said after Ginny had left, then added, “no offense, Ron.”

“None taken,” Ron answered. “I stopped taking offense a couple of weeks ago. Mostly.”

“I know,” Harry said, frowning, referring to Hermione’s comment. “Me too. But I feel like I ought to hear her out at least. Right?”

“Just be careful, Harry,” Hermione said, her eyebrows creased in concern.

“Don’t worry, mummy,” Harry said teasingly. “I’m a big boy – I can take care of myself.”

Hermione only frowned and went back to chewing her string bean.

 

“So, what did the Weaselette want?” Draco asked, once they were on their way back to the common room.

“She wants to apologise,” Harry explained.

“Apologise?”

“Yeah. She said she wanted us to leave this in an amicable manner.”

“And then you told her to get lost, right?” Draco asked pointedly.

“Well, not in so many words,” Harry admitted slowly.

“You accepted her apology?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Well… It’s… We…”

Draco stopped dead and turned towards Harry, crossing his arms. “You agreed to meet with her, didn’t you?”

Harry, looking down, scraped his foot on the stone floor, feeling embarrassed. “Well… She said she was sorry. I can at least hear her out, you know? If nothing else, then to get some answers.”

Draco moved close to him, took hold of his chin and tilted his head upwards, preventing Harry from staring down at the floor.

“You are such a gullible sucker,” Draco said, smiling fondly, and leaned in to kiss Harry gently on the lips.

“You like it,” Harry said and smiled against Draco’s lips.

“I do,” Draco answered. At least that’s what Harry thought he answered, as the sound was muffled by Harry swiping his tongue into Draco’s mouth.

“Get a room,” someone said, walking past them in the hall.

Draco broke the kiss. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he said, nibbling on Harry’s earlobe, making Harry shiver.

Draco pulled Harry closer, so Harry could feel his erection pressing against his thigh, and then resumed the kiss.

Harry ran his hands up Draco’s sides and down his back, grabbing his arse and pressing their groins together. He moved forwards, pushing Draco up against the wall and pressing his body flush up against his.

“You are _not_ going to do _anything_ of the sort in the middle of a hallway, deserted though it may be,” Hermione’s voice suddenly sounded sternly behind Harry, and he and Draco pulled apart immediately.

Harry turned around to look at Hermione standing with her hands on her hips and a very disapproving look on her face, and Ron blushing fiercely and looking anywhere but at Harry.

“Sorry Hermione,” Harry said. He took Draco’s hand and dragged him along to get to their dorm as fast as possible, leaving Ron and Hermione trailing behind them.

As they reached the common room people were already starting to gather round for that evening’s game.

“Are you joining tonight?” Pansy called through the room.

“Nope,” Draco answered and dragged Harry along into the dorm and onto his bed.

Harry immediately pulled the drapes shut and Draco cast a silencing charm. It had become a silent agreement between them that Draco was the one to cast the silencing charms as, apparently, Harry wasn’t very skilled in that particular area.

Practical things in order, they frantically started undressing each other as quickly as possible. However, the more eager they were to undress the other, the more difficult it was; an attempt to loosen a tie resulting in the tie to knot even further, and an attempt to pull off a shirt resulting in a pair of arms getting stuck.

Eventually, however, they succeeded.

“Turn around and bend over,” Harry ordered, and Draco did so immediately, resting on knees and hands.

Harry took in the sight of his pale and smooth skin and ran his hands up and down Draco’s back.

“Rest on your elbows instead of your hands,” he told Draco, and Draco adjusted his position, now resting on his elbows, his forearms positioned in front of his head. He then let his head drop to rest on his forearms.

Harry’s hands moved from Draco’s back to stroke down his sides and hips. He moved one hand over Draco’s buttocks and down his crack, grazing his tight entrance with his middle finger, and the other hand underneath Draco to take hold of his hard cock.

He stroked it a few times before removing his hand.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Harry said as he removed his hand from Draco’s cock and placed it on his buttock.

Both hands in place on Draco’s arse cheeks, he bent down to kiss and nibble at them. He spread them, revealing Draco’s puckered hole that was quivering in anticipation on its own volition.

He let his breath ghost over the entrance and felt Draco shiver. Then he stuck out his tongue and let it run slowly from Draco’s balls to his hole.

Draco whimpered and Harry felt his own cock twitch at the sound. It was a terribly erotic sound that made him feel powerful and in control. Not that he was going to admit that to anyone but his inner voice who already knew way too much about his sexual preferences.

He let his tongue prod at the furrowed entrance, occasionally swiping it from the bottom to the top. Eventually his tongue broke through the tight muscle. Draco let out another whimper as Harry pointed his tongue and started moving it in and out of his tight heat, tongue fucking him.

Harry removed one hand from Draco’s arse cheeks to reach forward and gently put pressure on his shoulder blades, urging him to flatten his chest further against the mattress while pushing up his arse even more, giving Harry easier access.

Draco was pushing against Harry’s tongue at every thrust and making sobbing, keening noises and clenching the sheet in his fists.

“Harry, please,” he said breathlessly, aching to be touched.

Harry removed his tongue from Draco’s arse and sat back on his heels.

“Turn around,” he told Draco for the second time.

Draco turned around and lay down on his back, bending and spreading his legs.

Harry summoned the lube from his bedside table and gave it to Draco.

“Prep yourself,” he said. “I want to see you with your fingers up your arse.”

Draco took the small bottle and coated his fingers with a generous amount. He closed his eyes as he reached down to slide in one finger, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat at the sight.

Draco’s mouth was slightly open as he slid his index finger in and out. Already worked somewhat open from Harry’s tongue, he quickly added a second and then a third finger. He was biting one side of his lower lip and making soft, whimpering sounds.

“Enough,” Harry said, his voice cracking slightly. He moved to sit against the headboard. “I want you to ride me,” he told Draco who moved to sit up.

Harry took the bottle of lube and squeezed out a dollop, and prepared his cock for entrance as Draco climbed across the bed to straddle him.

When Draco was in position, Harry lined up his cock and let Draco descend on it at his own pace. Draco moved slowly up and down, letting Harry’s cock go deeper every time. He had his arms around Harry’s neck and was holding on to him tightly.

Harry let his hands move up Draco’s sides and onto his chest, his thumbs grazing his nipples. He felt Draco shiver at the touch.

When all of Harry’s cock was buried deep inside Draco, they sat for a few moments without moving – Draco adjusting to the feeling, and Harry letting Draco set the pace.

Draco finally started moving up and down, riding Harry, his arms tightening their grip around Harry’s neck and pressing their chests flush up against each other, making it impossible for Harry to continue working his nipples. He could feel the pressure of Draco’s cock against his stomach and Draco’s ragged breath against his temple.

Draco’s movements soon became erratic and he was breathing harder and faster, working towards his release.

When Draco stilled, letting out a hoarse moan, face scrunched up and mouth hanging open, Harry felt the warm fluids coat their stomachs that sandwiched Draco’s cock. He felt Draco’s arse constricting around him and was unable to contain himself as he moved forwards, leading Draco to lie on his back.

He pushed at Draco’s thighs, and Draco took hold of them, spreading his legs out and up as far as possible as he thrust frantically in to him fast and hard.

They were both covered in sweat, hair sticking to their foreheads and Harry could feel little drops of sweat trickling down the back of his thighs.

Harry was grunting in beat with his thrusts and it didn’t take long before he was pumping his liquids into Draco with a loud groan.

When he had emptied himself completely he let himself practically fall on top of Draco who let out a little puff of air at the sudden extra weight.

Harry was breathing hard, out of breath from the exercise. As his breathing slowed down he rolled off Draco and let his head rest on Draco’s chest, trailing patterns on his chest and stomach, not caring about the fact that they were both still covered in spunk.

“I really, really like you a very, very lot,” Harry said quietly.

“That was very inarticulate, Harry,” Draco answered. Then, after a moment’s silence, he added. “I really, really like you a very, very lot, too,”

“No, I mean like, a _very_ lot,” Harry said.

“Well that certainly clarifies it,” Draco answered dryly. “Me too,” he added quietly and Harry smiled against his chest.

They stayed for a while like that, Harry’s head resting on Draco’s chest, and Draco’s arm draped around Harry’s shoulder, nuzzling Harry’s upper arm, and Harry continuing to trace patterns on Draco’s chest and stomach.

After a while Draco broke the comfortable silence. “You know, as much as I enjoy lying here, cuddling while covered in sweat and sperm, I really would like a shower.”

“Let’s have one, then,” Harry said and they went to the shower, cleaning themselves and each other.

After that they headed off for bed, assuming their usual position of Harry spooning Draco while burying his nose in his hair.

*

Having gone to sleep relatively early they were both up by eight thirty and took their time getting ready to go down for breakfast. Draco asked Harry to join him at the Slytherin table to take their meal together, which he did gladly.

They returned to the common room around a quarter past nine and sat down on their preferred sofa in front of the fire.

“I’m meeting Ginny in half an hour,” Harry said.

“Oh… Right… ‘The apology’.”

“Yeah. Apology.” Harry spoke as if he didn’t quite believe it. Draco didn’t either.

“I think I’ll get some reading done while you’re gone then,” Draco said. “After all, I’ll have to read ahead if you expect me to teach you everything you don’t pick up on in class.” Harry stuck out his tongue at Draco but couldn’t help grinning.

When Draco got to the dorm to get his books, he was suddenly surprised by a little origami crane that fluttered through the open door and landed in his hair. He took hold of it and opened it.

 

_Malfoy,_

_Meet me in the classroom across the beheaded gargoyle on the third floor at 9.50 am. It’s important. Tell no-one._

_H.Granger._

Draco thought it odd that Hermione would suddenly address him Malfoy and refer to herself as Granger and wondered if he had unknowingly upset her somehow.

Perhaps she had been annoyed by his mentioning the table of her choice at the library. However, that was several days ago. Or had she been more offended by their kissing in the corridor the evening prior, than he and Harry thought? But why only speak to him, then, and not to Harry?

Perhaps she wanted to do another spying session on the Weaselette. That could explain why she would write a note instead of just approaching him. And he couldn’t think of anything else dire that needed to be discussed so urgently.

Yes, that was probably it; a little light spying. Draco wasn’t at all comfortable with the suggestion of spying on Harry but decided to do as the note said. He could always tell Hermione that he didn’t want to join her, if that was, in fact, what this was about.

He went back into the common room and stood at the back of the sofa behind Harry. Harry looked up and smiled and Draco smiled back.

“Turns out I have plans as well,” he told Harry.

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Harry answered and pulled Draco down for a kiss.

“Good luck,” Draco said as he left the common room.

As Draco exited the common room through the portrait hole, he ran into Blaise and Pansy who was on their way back from breakfast. He had barely seen them for the past week, as he was still residing in the Gryffindor boys’ dorm and spending all his spare time with Harry, spending every meal time staring at Harry and spending every class sitting next to Harry.

Pansy quickly enfolded him in a tight hug.

“Is something the matter, Pansy?” he asked, surprised by the sudden show of affection.

“I’m just so happy for you,” she said quietly.

“Me too,” Draco answered, smiling, and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “I have to go but I’ll see you later, okay?”

Pansy released him from the hug and let him get on his way.

When he entered the classroom across the beheaded gargoyle at exactly 9.50 Granger wasn’t there. He waited for a few minutes and was just about to leave when he heard footsteps outside the door.

“Hello, Malfoy,” the Weaselette said as she entered the classroom.

Draco frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Meeting you,” she said with a disgustingly sweet smile.

“I’m meeting Hermione,” Draco said, confused.

“Afraid not,” the Weaselette said. “You see; you and I have unfinished business.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I disagree.” He didn’t want to pretend he didn’t know that she was referring to the fact that she was still under the illusion that Draco had somehow been the main factor in the destruction of her and Harry’s relationship.

“I will make you pay, Malfoy.” The Weaselette moved towards him. Involuntarily Draco moved backwards until he was backed against the wall.

Just then they heard footsteps further down the hall through the door which the Weaselette had left slightly ajar.

“Oh, excellent,” she said, her sugary smile changing into a vicious one. “Right on time.”

Everything that happened next was very confusing and happened extremely fast – so fast, in fact, that Draco didn’t manage to react until it was too late:

The Weaselette undid his trousers and pulled them down along with his boxers, exposing his cock.

“What the fuck, Weaselette?” Draco all but shrieked and started to bend down to pull them back up.

The Weaselette was wearing a button-down dress with buttons on the front. As Draco bent forwards to pull up his pants and trousers she ripped it open, revealing that she had absolutely nothing on underneath. Then she turned around while lifting up the back of the dress, pressing her arse against his crotch, forcefully taking hold of both his hands, pressing one against her breast and the other on her pussy.

Draco was too stunned to react and was still standing frozen in place, bent slightly over, somehow encasing the she-Weasel’s body with his, when the door opened and Harry walked in.

Harry didn’t seem to register immediately what was going on. He looked from Draco to Ginny to Draco again, frowning questioningly in confusion. Then his facial expression changed to one of utter heartbreak, and he turned around and walked out without a word.

Draco pushed the Weaselette away from him and quickly pulled up his boxers and trousers.

“Was it worth it?” He asked her as she smiled the same vicious smile as earlier.

“Absolutely,” she answered, still smiling. “Good luck fixing that.”

Draco didn’t answer but hurried out of the classroom and after Harry. When Draco finally caught up with him Harry was entering the common room.

“Harry, wait,” Draco said loudly as he entered right after Harry.

Harry turned around and Draco pulled back slightly at the sight of him. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked angrier than Draco had ever seen him. And that said something.

Harry moved fast. He threw his fist forward, smashing it into Draco’s nose.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry, that hurt,” Draco said. He gingerly touched his nose and winced at the pain. It was bleeding. A lot.

_“How COULD you?”_ Harry shouted, for the umpteenth time attracting the attention of every single person in the common room.

“Harry, _please_ , listen to me,” Draco pleaded, holding out his hands.

“ _No! Fuck you, you fucking fucker. I_ hate _you_.” Harry continued shouting. He pulled the door to the dorm open and Draco made to follow.

“Harry, can we please just talk about this? It isn’t what it looked like.”

_“Fuck you. This was all some elaborate scheme, wasn’t it? All along. Gain the trust and friendship of Harry Potter then fuck his girlfriend and rip his heart out_ , _”_ Harry shouted.

“No, of course not. That’s not what that was. Let’s just go to the dorm and talk about things, _please_.”

_“No!_ You’ve outstayed your welcome.” Then he turned towards Longbottom who was standing among the majority of the 7 th years watching the show. “Neville, you’re moving back in.” Longbottom nodded, not daring to say anything.

“Harry!” Draco said, shocked. “You’re kicking me out?”

_“You slept with my girlfriend,”_ Harry all but shouted.

“Ex-girlfriend, and no, I didn’t,” Draco answered, aware of the joined gasp from the other students in the room. “If you would just hear me out, Harry. _Please_.”

“I’m done listening to you. You achieved your goal. So _fuck_ off and _fucking_ leave me alone, _Malfoy_.”

Draco didn’t know what to answer to that so he just stood gaping at the door to the dorm as Harry slammed it behind him.

“You slept with Ginny?” a low and ominous voice sounded from behind him.

Draco turned around and looked Ronald in the eyes. “No,” he answered truthfully. “I didn’t.”

Ronald didn’t seem to believe him. Luckily Draco moved quickly enough to avoid the knee aimed for his balls. It seemed that the common treatment involving interactions with the Weaselette was a broken nose and a knee to the groin.

Ronald was about to charge again when Vince and Greg moved to stand in front of him. Ron looked from one to the other. “Coward,” he said with a sneer and went to the dorm.

Hermione was standing in the middle of the room. With a look of confusion, betrayal and anger on her face she followed Ron and Harry into the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

Draco stood numb for a moment. Then he regained his composure and turned to Longbottom. “Clear your shit out.”

Longbottom nodded and hurried into the Slytherin dorm without a word. Moments later he returned, levitating his trunk in front of him. Without a word to anybody Draco walked past him into the Slytherin dorm, climbed onto his old bed and closed the drapes. He curled up, hugging his knees and closing his eyes tight, trying to ignore the stinging feeling behind his lids.

He had a hard time wrapping his head around what had just happened. And about the fact that Harry had called the Weaselette his girlfriend. The thought of that was unbelievably painful.

Fifteen minutes or so later he heard the door open and close.

“May I come in?” It was Pansy.

“I don’t care,” Draco answered. His voice was annoyingly raspy.

The drapes opened momentarily and he felt the bed dip as Pansy climbed onto it. Draco didn’t turn around to greet her.

“You’re shaking, love,” Pansy said gently as she lay down next to him. She put her arm around him and held on to him tightly. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Draco said. His voice was detached and he concentrated very hard not to appear as sad as he felt. “I slept with Harry’s girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Pansy corrected. “And no you didn’t, Draco.”

“Well, according to Harry I did.”

“Draco, tell me what happened.”

And so Draco told her about the note he had received not an hour ago and how the Weaselette had framed him.

“I can’t believe she did that,” Pansy said. “What a bitch.”

“I don’t know what to do now,” Draco said, feeling lost.

“Turn around, love,” Pansy ordered and Draco did. He hadn’t yet fixed his nose and his face was still covered in blood. He looked horrible.

“Oh, honey,” Pansy said. She pulled out her wand and cast an Episkey and a cleaning charm on him, his clothes and the bed covers. Then she pulled him into her arms and cradled him like a mother would a child, making shushing noises and stroking his hair. Draco felt his nose beginning to run and his eyes stinging. He sniffled, pressing his face into the crook of Pansy’s neck.

“There, there, sweetheart,” Pansy said gently.

“It’s just allergies,” Draco lied, his voice annoyingly thick.

“I know it is, darling, I know. It’s okay. Everybody gets allergic to something from time to time.” She continued cradling him, stroking his hair and making comforting shushing noises until he let himself drift off.

*

“KREACHER!”

With a loud pop Kreacher appeared in the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

“Master called,” Kreacher said and then muttered under his breath _“Master has called Kreacher to his school of mudbloods and halfbloods and blood traitors. There is the mudblood; oh how Kreacher hates her. And there is the blood traitor Weasel. Kreacher would much rather that the young Malfoy heir was his master. Kreacher is honoured to be delivering his notes to Miss Cissa.”_

“Yeah, well, you won’t be delivering any more notes to neither Miss Cissa nor Draco Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “You will tell Miss Cissa that Harry Potter is sorry but he revokes Draco Malfoy’s right to the use of Kreacher as a means of communication between him and Miss Cissa. Also tell Miss Cissa that Harry Potter regrets that her son’s behaviour should result in causing her discomfort and inconvenience but that unfortunately it can’t be helped.”

Harry paused, trying to think of anything else to tell the house elf.

“Harry, what happened?” Hermione asked, looking concerned.

“You heard what happened,” Harry said. “You were there. Draco slept with Ginny.”

“But…” Ron said. “It’s not even an hour ago since you and Draco were snogging in the common room. How did he have time to sleep with Ginny?”

“I don’t know, Ron, okay?” Harry spat. “She slept with half the school anyway. I mean; Neville, Corner and Smith since we started school. Between the start of term and when we broke up that’s three different guys besides me in two and a half months. And that probably doesn’t even cover it. She’d know how to squeeze him in. So to speak.”

“Harry, this isn’t making any sense,” Hermione continued. “Tell us what happened.”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Harry said angrily. “He _was_ up to something. It was all just a big scheme: Befriend Harry Potter, break up his relationship, make him crush on you then sleep with his ex-girlfriend and break his heart. Oh god, maybe she was even in on it.” Harry raised both arms and pulled at his hair.

“Why would she be in on it?” Ron asked. “If, in fact, there were such a scheme.”

“How the fuck should I know?” Harry snapped. Then he turned his attention back to Kreacher. “That’s all, Kreacher. Return to Grimmauld Place and deliver the message to Miss Cissa.”

Kreacher bowed deeply and apparated away while mumbling under his breath.

“Harry, please. Sit down and take a breath. You’re not making any sense,” Hermione begged.

Harry sat down and relayed the morning’s events to his two best friends.

“The weird thing is,” Hermione said pensively after Harry fell silent, “I got a note earlier today from Draco asking me to meet him in the library at 9.45 sharp and to tell no-one.”

“That _is_ weird,” Ron agreed, frowning.

“I don’t give a shit whether it’s weird or not,” Harry said. “I’m going to bed.”

“So, is this going to be another eating-every-meal-in-bed-weekend?” Hermione asked.

“Yes!” Harry said and climbed in.

He lay down on his back and stared up into the canopy. He had been so happy a mere hour ago. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have thought that Draco – that _Malfoy_ (he’d better start thinking of him as Malfoy again) – had changed. He should have known the Slytherin bastard was up to something. Should have never let himself convince otherwise.

And Harry once again spent an entire weekend never leaving his dorm.

On Sunday evening Neville asked to talk to Harry and Harry agreed to it. He may as well.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Neville said quietly as he looked Harry in the eye. He looked sorry. “She told me she had told you she was attracted to me. That you had told her to ‘get it out of her system’. And that you never wanted to hear about it afterwards from me or anybody else.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did it,” Harry said blank-faced.

“I know,” Neville looked down, picking at a chipped nail.

“It doesn’t matter now anyway. You can have her if you want to.” Harry looked down as well. He couldn’t bring himself to care about Ginny or Neville or anything much. He felt so empty. And sad.

“Blaise says Malfoy is a right mess,” Neville said after a few moments’ silence, pensively observing Harry.

“Serves him right,” Harry mumbled, wondering when Zabini had become Blaise to Neville.

“Harry, are you sure everything is as it seems?”

“I don’t care,” Harry said. “I’m going to sleep. See you tomorrow, Neville.”

Harry lay down on his side with his back to Neville and closed his eyes. He felt the bed shift as Neville got off.

 

Unfortunately Harry didn’t have any excuses to stay in bed on Monday. Flanked by Ron and Hermione he reluctantly made his way through the common room and to breakfast without making eye contact with anybody. His two best friends had been extremely supportive. As always.

Draco – no; _Malfoy_ – tried to approach him as they were headed to breakfast but Harry pointedly ignored him. The fucker.

Once they were in the Great Hall and making their way down along the Gryffindor table Harry caught Ginny’s eyes. She smirked at him smugly then looked away. He spent breakfast poking at his food until the owls swooped over the tables and Ron exclaimed ominously, “Oh no.”

Harry looked up in time to see the Weasley family owl dropping a red smoking envelope in front of Ginny who had paled at the sight of it.

“Oh no,” he repeated after Ron.

“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice boomed, drawing the attention of every single student and professor present.

Harry hid his head in his hands. For a brief moment he harboured a hope that maybe Ginny had done something extremely reproachable that Harry just hadn’t heard about that required a howler. But who was he kidding. Of course it was about their break-up. Though how Mrs. Weasley had found out was beyond him. He couldn’t imagine Ginny telling her. Or Ron for that matter. He briefly considered leaving the Great Hall but all eyes were on the Gryffindor table so he wouldn’t stand a chance at escaping unnoticed.

“I AM MOST SERIOUSLY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU,” the Howler continued.

“NOT ONLY HAVE I NOT BEEN INFORMED ABOUT THE RECENT BREAK-UP BETWEEN YOU AND POOR HARRY – I HAVE TO HEAR ABOUT IT FROM A CERTAIN MUTTERING-UNDER-HIS-BREATH HOUSE ELF. A CERTAIN MUTTERING HOUSE ELF WHO HAS APPARENTLY BEEN VISITING HOGWARTS ON A REGULAR BASIS FOR A MONTH. (And Harry, we _will_ be having a serious discussion about this over Christmas.)

WHAT’S MORE, I HAVE TO HEAR ABOUT THE _REASON_ FOR YOUR BREAK-UP FROM THAT CERTAIN MUTTERING HOUSE ELF. ARE YOU NOT AWARE OF THE IMPORTANCE OF FIDELITY? ARE YOU NOT AWARE OF THE RISKS OF KEEPING SEVERAL LOVERS ALL AT ONCE? DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT CONTRACEPTIVE SPELLS?

TO HEAR THAT MY ONLY DAUGHTER HAS BEEN _SCHEMING_ ALONG WITH THE SON OF A CERTAIN HOUSE GUEST AT A CERTAIN HOUSE TO BREAK POOR HARRY’S HEART. HAVE I RAISED YOU SO BADLY?

STEP ONE MORE TOE OUT OF LINE, YOUNG LADY, AND YOU WILL BE ON YOUR WAY HOME FASTER THAN YOU CAN SAY QUIDDITCH.”

At the end of the rant Harry regretted not having made a run for it. He was beet red and trying desperately to make himself as small as possible – preferably invisible. Eventually a very angry looking and near tears Ginny stood up and walked out of the Great Hall, her back straight and chin up. Harry had to hand it to her; he wasn’t sure _he_ would have been able to make such a dignified exit.

There was some shuffling in the seat across from him and when Harry looked up he saw Neville looking between him and the entrance, looking torn and uncomfortable.

“Just go,” Harry said quietly and Neville shot up and hurried towards the entrance.

Just then a large black regal owl came swooping down in front of Harry, dropping off a letter and swooping across the hall, dropping another in front of Dr-Malfoy. Then it reached out and scratched Malfoy’s hand, making what looked like a deep and painful cut. Ha! It took flight without waiting for reply. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the letters were from.

Harry could tell from across the hall that Draco – no _Malfoy_ ; fuck that was difficult – had gone pale(r) then red then pale again as he was reading his letter. It pleased Harry to no end that the evil ferret was getting a proper scolding from his mother. He was also very pleased that it wasn’t a Howler. What was Mrs. Weasley thinking?

He unfolded the parchment and began reading his letter.

 

                             _Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I was saddened to learn from Kreacher that you and Draco had a falling out._

_I will not submit to you the details of Kreacher’s murmurs, but I would like to express my deepest apologies on my son's behalf. I will not pretend to know what the basis for my son’s actions is but I will assure you that no such thing will occur again._

_I can tell from our correspondence that Draco holds you in high esteem and I was under the impression that you had put your differences aside and formed a friendship. I am therefore puzzled as to what would possess him to act in such a manner. Once again, I sincerely apologise._

_Let me thank you for the opportunity to redecorate the accommodations we have so graciously been offered to occupy for the time being. It has been worth gold to have been able to occupy myself these past few months and I hope you will find the changes to your satisfaction._

_I will express my hopes that you and Draco can eventually build up your friendship anew._

_I once again deeply apologise for my son’s behaviour._

_Most sincerely,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

 

“It’s from Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said and passed the letter to Ron who read it then passed it on to Hermione.

When they were both done reading Hermione asked quietly, “Harry, are you sure you don’t want to talk to Draco about this? Perhaps it is all some terrible misunderstanding.”

Harry glared at her. “He had his trousers _and_ his pants around his ankles and one hand on Ginny’s breast and the other on her… you know. And she was standing naked in front of him with her bum pressed against his… pelvis.”

“I admit that does sound incriminating,” Hermione said and bit her lip.

“Could we perhaps leave now?” Harry asked. The Great Hall was buzzing with conversations, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. However, Harry had a feeling that _he_ was the topic of conversation. Again. Especially since there was a fair amount of pointing and badly concealed gawking.

The trio got up and left the hall quickly, returning to the common room for their first period which was a study session.

“So…” Ron said when they had entered the dorm. “Analysing Harry part four?”

Harry snorted but sat down on the bed anyway, adjusting the lighting and conjuring chairs for Ron and Hermione and a quill and notebook for Hermione.

“Before we begin,” Hermione said. “About Kreacher. I hate to say I told you so, Harry…”

“No you don’t. But yeah, I get it. No need to be smug about it,” Harry answered and Hermione nodded, putting an end to that discussion.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Hermione asked after they were all settled down and comfortable.

“Like a bloody moron. How could I be so stupid?”

Ron frowned. “I just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, well I’ll tell you then: Dra- _Malfoy_ has been scheming all along to humiliate me. And a very elaborate scheme at that. He hasn’t changed at all. He’s the same Death Eater spawn prick he’s always been. Only this time he really tried to break me.”

“But the thing is, Harry,” Ron said, “he looks just as miserable as you do.”

“Because he’s a good actor,” Harry said.

“That may very well be,” Ron continued, “but if it really was a successful scheme, shouldn’t he be all smug and doing his little Malfoy-smirk thing and bragging about it?”

“I agree with Ron,” Hermione said.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Harry said, crossing his arms and glaring at them.

“We _are_ on your side, Harry,” Hermione said, placing a hand on his knee. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this.”

“There’s no bottom to get to,” Harry said determinedly. “He finally got to me. He doesn’t care about me at all. I bet he’s talking to his little fellow snakes right now about his success.”

“Neville says Zabini says he’s in a right state,” Ron said.

Harry was getting annoyed. It was incomprehensible to him how his two best friends could not see through what he had seen through and accept things for what they were – that Malfoy was still a nasty prick and that the only thing he had wanted with Harry was to chew him up and spit him out for his own and his friends’ amusement.

“Serves him right,” Harry muttered.

“But Harry,” Hermione said, “why would he be in a right state if this was some elaborate scheme aimed to harm you? And you must remember that I asked him under the influence of Veritaserum if he was up to something and he said no.”

“Because he planned it after.” Harry nearly rolled his eyes. What was she, dense? “And perhaps he’s in a state because his plan didn’t have the desired effect. Perhaps he planned for me to get so upset I’d die.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous, Harry.” Hermione crossed her arms and frowned at him.

Ron leaned forward. “Harry, you haven’t seen the looks on both your faces this past week and a half or so. You looked so happy. Both of you. Plus he’s been staring at you for ages before that.”

“To spy!” Harry spat.

“I really think you ought to talk to him,” Hermione said. “Hear him out. Because honestly, I have a very hard time picturing him planning any sort of nastiness along with Ginny. He and I have had conversations about her, and he _really_ dislikes her – no offence, Ron.”

“None taken,” Ron said. “I’m not a huge fan myself these days.”

Harry leaned forward. “I don’t care how or who or why they did it. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is for my feelings to go away. And the humiliation. And I want to never have anything to do with him ever again. I hate him.” He nodded once and crossed his arms as if to finalise the statement.

“But Harry, when you think about all the things he’s done for you these past few months… It just doesn’t make sense.” Ron continued and Harry crossed his arms across his chest and looked at him, frowning.

“You’ve said that before, Ron, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well,” Ron said, “let’s see.” He held up his hand and started counting on his fingers. “He helped make the Murtlap for you – and yes! Hermione _did_ need the help; He practically carried you from the castle to the Forbidden Forest on detention when your arse was sore; He got you _and_ Neville supper so you didn’t need to go to the Great Hall when we were fighting; He got us all hangover potions only because he didn’t want you to waste yours; He took the detentions for you when Hermione went Umbridge –“ Ron paused and looked at Hermione who was staring at him, mouth agape and looking very offended. “No reason to fight it, darling – that is what you did.” He then directed his attention to Harry again and started counting on his fingers again.

“He spied on Ginny for you; He went to get us _and_ finished the rest of the detention that night Ginny locked you in the ingredients’ cupboard; He lied to her about the potion; He sent you to bed that Friday after the nasty thing with Ginny that from now on we’ll never ever mention again; and that’s just the things I can remember from the top of my head.”

After Ron had finished his rant Harry just sat looking at him, frowning and not really knowing what to make of it all.

Suddenly his frown deepened as he thought of something. “What do you mean he spied on Ginny?”

“Um…” Ron said, blushing. He most likely hadn’t meant to say that at all. “He thought she was up to something and followed her.”

Harry snorted. “Paranoid much?”

Ron and Hermione just exchanged a look and a raised brow.

“Well, it’s how he got Hermione to remove most of the detentions and let you serve together.”

“Was that the intel you were talking about that time in my bed?” Harry asked Hermione, suddenly curious.

“It was,” she answered.

“Well, I bet you, whatever it was he told you, he was lying – the treacherous bastard!” he spat. “How dare he spy on her?”

“Well, actually…” Hermione began but Ron shook his head vigorously.

Harry thought it odd but couldn’t quite muster up the energy to open up a new potential can of worms so kept his mouth shut and just rubbed his brow instead.

He then sat staring in to the air for a while focusing on nothing in particular.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncertainly. Just as Hermione leaned forward and opened her mouth to say something, Harry spoke.

“Ugh, and that Howler,” he said, leaning back against the headboard and covering his eyes with his arms. “Could it possibly get more humiliating?”

“Probably not,” Ron said resolutely. “But you brought that one on yourself, mate. And I suspect you’ll get a scolding over it over Christmas.”

Harry removed his arm from his eyes and looked at Ron incredulously. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to spend my holidays in the same house as Ginny do you?”

“Oh,” Ron said, looking disappointed. “I guess that would be a bit much to ask. But what will you do then?”

Harry sighed. “Stay here I guess. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Hermione reached out again and took his hand. “Would you like us to stay here with you over Christmas?”

Harry gave her a small, thankful smile. “No, it’s fine. Ron, could you write to your mother for me? I don’t particularly fancy breaking the news to her.” Ron nodded his consent.

“Harry, you know we will back you in whatever you choose to do but my opinion remains that you ought to talk to him,” Hermione said.

Harry looked her square in the eye. “If I never talk to him again it will be too soon.”

Hermione sighed. “Well, at least you ought to write a reply to Mrs. Malfoy.”

“I suppose I should. I’m not changing my decision about Kreacher, though, if that’s what she’s hoping for.”

“I don’t believe it is,” Hermione said.

“About that,” Ron said, frowning, “When on earth did my mother visit Grimmauld Place? And how did she know about Kreacher coming here?”

“Your mum is trying to teach Mrs. Malfoy how to cook,” Harry explained. The gobsmacked look on Ron’s face couldn’t help but make him smile. “Apparently she has a way with people,” he continued explaining. “She had your father and Kingsley help her get a TV and getting it installed. And Kingsley helped her magically expand the garden even further. And he comes over to check on her in his spare time. _And_ she’s on first name basis with him.”

Ron still looked gobsmacked but Hermione was frowning. “How do you know all this, Harry?” she asked.

“Draco told me,” Harry said then cursed himself silently for using Malfoy’s given name. That had to stop.

“He told you personal things about his mother?” Hermione asked and Harry nodded. “Do you really think he would do that if he was just out to get you? There’s loads of blackmail material there if you phrase it correctly.”

“I think he would do anything to get to me. He’s a Slytherin. It’s what they do. I’m done discussing this. Let’s go or we’ll be late for Defence.”

At that Hermione jumped in her seat and ushered both boys out of the dorm to head to Defence. Harry was very aware that in only a few hours he would have to stand next to Malfoy for about two hours during Potions.

 

When Defence Against the Dark Arts came to an end Snape positioned himself in front of Harry’s desk, resting his fingertips on the table top. “Mr. Potter. You will stay behind. I am certain your cronies will save you a seat for lunch.”

“Why do I have to stay behind?” Harry asked.

“Because I told you to. Five points from Gryffindor for asking stupid questions.”

Hermione and Ron looked at him uncertainly, hesitant to leave, but Harry waved them off.

When everybody had left Harry looked at Snape questioningly. Snape crossed his arms, sneering.

“I don’t know what you have done to Mr. Malfoy to make him look at you like his Kneazle just died a horrible and painful death but I swear to you that if you hurt him I will make. You. Suffer.”

“More than you already do?” Harry asked before he could think not to.

Snape’s lips curled in a grim smile. Then he leaned in over the desk so his crooked nose was an inch from Harry’s. “Yes.”

Harry barely managed not to swallow audibly. “May I leave now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Snape answered and Harry picked up his things and left the room, hurrying to lunch.

To think that Ginny was fantasising about that man. Yuck.

At the lunch table he relayed his conversation with Snape to Ron and Hermione.

“See?” Hermione said. “You ought to talk to him.”

On that note Harry closed the subject and went back to dreading Potions.

 

Harry took his usual seat next to Malfoy but pointedly avoided looking at him and ignoring Malfoy’s pleas to please listen to him.

“I would like to request a new Potions partner, professor” Harry said as soon as Slughorn had entered the classroom and presented their new assignment.

“Harry!” Draco said, sounding shocked.

Slughorn frowned and looked puzzled. “I was under the impression that you and Mr. Malfoy had put your differences aside, Harry.”

“Yes, well, they reoccurred,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“My dear boy,” Slughorn continued, “as much as I would like to meet your request I am afraid that it is not possible. We are too far into the year to reassign partners. I’m sorry, Harry, but that is the way it is.” Slughorn turned and went to sit behind his desk.

“Great,” Harry muttered. “ _Now_ he grows a backbone.”

They began preparing the ingredients needed for the day’s potion and Harry continued to ignore Malfoy. When class was finally over and their workstation cleared Harry made to make a hurried exit, quickly shoving his books in his bag. As he was leaving Malfoy reached out and grabbed his arm, forcefully turning Harry around so they were facing each other.

“Harry, this can’t go on,” he said. “You can’t keep ignoring me. You _have_ to listen to me.”

“No, I don’t,” Harry hissed, yanking his arm out of Malfoy’s grip. “I don’t want anything to do with you ever again. I’ll have you as a Potions partner but we’ll keep the conversation to a minimum and potion related. We’ll have no sort of interaction beside that. You will keep out of my way and I’ll keep out of yours. Got it?”

“At least hear me out, would you?” Malfoy said, sounding desperate.

“Why should I?”

“Because you should trust that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you like that. You said you trusted me.”

“Yes. And I recall you saying I trust too easily. And you called me a gullible sucker,” Harry said. “Apparently you were right. We’re done talking.” On that note he stalked out of the classroom, leaving a flustered and frustrated looking Draco behind.

*

“I think we have to talk to Draco,” Hermione said as she approached Ron in the common room later that week. Harry was in his dorm where he had been spending most of his time that week. It was now Friday and Hermione was growing sick of it. She was, of course, sad and concerned for her friend but couldn’t help being frustrated about his stubbornness and continued belief that Draco had been out to get him.

Ron looked over his shoulder towards the dorm. “Why?” he asked.

“Because we need to hear his version of the story. I think there’s more to it and I think that you think that as well. I’ve just spent two hours with him in Arithmancy and two hours in Ancient Runes. He is unprepared and snappish and rude.” Ron raised an eyebrow and Hermione added, “more so than usual. He actually told Professor Vector to bugger off and leave him alone. She was too baffled to even take house points, let alone give him a detention.”

“He _has_ been looking rather glum,” Ron agreed, glancing over to the corner of the common room where Draco was sitting, staring into the fire with a sour expression on his face.

They made their way to Draco and positioned themselves in front of him so he would have to look at them.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“To talk,” Hermione said. “Please join us in my bed.”

“Is Harry coming?”

“No,” Hermione answered.

“Good,” Draco said. He got up and followed Hermione and Ron into the Gryffindor girls’ dorm where Lavender was perched on her bed. As the three students entered she looked up. Hermione rolled her eyes as Lavender batted her eyelashes at Draco and squeezed her arms around her breasts to make them look bigger and let the cleavage show.

“Are you having another threesome?” she cooed. “How come I’m never invited?” She pouted and batted her eyelashes again.

“Because then it wouldn’t be a threesome, you moronic imbecile. Besides; you’re unappealing,” Draco snapped. “Leave.” Lavender huffed as she got off her bed and left, no doubt to relay the tales of another threesome to whoever would listen. “That woman is horrendous,” he said as the door closed. Ron agreed with him, much to Hermione’s satisfaction.

“So what do you want?” Draco asked as he sat down on Hermione’s bed.

“To ask you what happened,” Hermione said.

“You heard what happened,” Draco said matter-of-factly. “I slept with Harry’s girlfriend.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine. To ask you what _really_ happened.”

“I’m going to say nasty things about your sister Ronald,” Draco said, turning his head to look at Ron.

Ron shrugged. “I’m getting used to it.”

After Draco had relayed the Saturday’s events both Hermione and Ron looked shocked. “So that’s why I got that weird note from you to meet you at a quarter to ten. It was so that I wouldn’t be there when you headed off for that classroom to meet with me. And she had arranged for Harry to meet her at eleven so she was certain you would leave ten minutes before him. Harry was right – it _was_ an elaborate scheme. It just wasn’t yours.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Draco said, crossing his arms and looking surly. “He doesn’t believe me and I doubt he ever will. So, that’s that and we all move on. We ought to go back to calling each other Granger, Weasley and Malfoy again.”

“We’re doing no such thing,” Hermione said firmly and Ron rolled his eyes. “We’re going to solve this.”

“We’re not going to solve anything,” Draco argued. “He doesn’t trust me. I thought he did but he didn’t.”

“Well, he’s a very trusting person in general,” Ron said. “But he also gets suspicious very easily.”

“You don’t say,” Draco said sarcastically. “Anyway, I’m done here.” Draco got up and left the room.

“Hey, Draco,” Ron called as Draco was about to leave. He turned around and looked at Ron. “I we’re going to continue on with the given names, could you at least call me Ron and not Ronald?”

“Why?” Draco asked. “Ronald is your name.”

“Yes, but I like Ron better.”

“Fine,” Draco agreed. “Ron.” Then he turned again and left the dorm.

“I’m going to talk to Pansy,” Hermione said resolutely and nodding to herself.

*

Draco had had a horrible week. Harry blankly refused to listen to him and his stubbornness was driving Draco mad.

And that howler the Weaselette received on Monday morning. Merlin that was embarrassing. Not to mention the scolding he had got from his mother. And she had written Harry as well, apologising for his behaviour.

How the muttering house elf knew enough about things to be able to relay them with such accuracy Draco didn’t know. It seemed highly unlikely that Harry had summoned Kreacher to tell him about the whole thing. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the idiot Gryffindor to have summoned the house elf to inform him that Draco was no longer allowed to use him and then forgotten about his presence and spilled the whole thing by accident.

 

At some point during Tuesday’s Transfiguration’s lessons Draco’s frustration had turned to annoyance.

He had positioned himself at the desk next to Harry’s with the intent of talking to him whether Harry wanted to or not. Harry, though, continued to ignore Draco.

Later that evening Pansy had intervened and asked if this was really the way a Malfoy _or_ a Black would react in a situation where they were falsely accused and then so blatantly disregarded in their attempt to make the truth known. Pansy was, of course, right and Draco had decided to cease the humiliating grovelling and begging immediately.

After a while Draco’s annoyance turned to downright anger. How dare Harry snub him off like that? How dare he pretend to trust Draco and then just… just not? He could at least have the courtesy to hear Draco out. He had agreed to hear the Weaselette out and let her apologise, for Merlin’s sake.

Even though he had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that he still cared about Harry – and quite a bit more than was advisable in the current situation – he had taken offence and decided that the bastard could just… just… fuck off. _No-one_ treated a Malfoy like that!

Even though Pansy had encouraged Draco to get over his wallowing in self-pity over the failed attempts to get Harry to talk to him, she was still coddling him and looking at him worriedly when she thought he wasn’t looking. _And_ when he _was_ looking for that matter. Even Blaise had taken to looking at him with concern.

All his dorm mates were walking on eggshells because apparently he was ‘throwing temper tantrums’ on a regular basis. According to them.

Personally he wouldn’t call it a temper tantrum to have hexed Theo when he dropped – nay, _threw_ – his book on the floor during Draco’s nap. Or to have hexed Greg when he was chewing loudly when Draco was so obviously trying to focus on being annoyed and angry with Harry. Those were just perfectly natural reactions to unacceptable factors.

Come Friday, Draco had stopped completely feeling guilty over something he didn’t do and had progressed to anger.

He was eagerly waiting for indifference to kick in, though if he had to be completely honest with himself – he didn’t see that happening for quite a while.

When game time arrived he was seriously considering not joining to avoid the risk of having to do anything with Harry. He decided against it, though; Harry was _not_ going to be allowed to dictate what Draco did or didn’t do. That, and he didn’t have anything better to do.

“I have a suggestion,” Hermione announced as they were about to begin. “Why don’t we play ‘I’ve never’ instead of Truth or dare?”

“What’s that?” asked Ronald.

“It’s a game where you have to make a statement about something you’ve never done. For instance I could say ‘I’ve never had sex with a girl’ and then anyone who _has_ drinks. And then we just take turns. And I’ll cast the spell we usually use, only slightly modified so we’ll feel compelled to drink if we’ve done it. You can also say something you _have_ done and then you just drink along with everybody else.”

“Sounds like fun,” Pansy said immediately, smiling. “Let’s do that.”

“Really, Hermione?” Draco said, raising both eyebrows and looking at her extremely sceptically. “You really do have the subtlety of a Hippogriff.”

Hermione just smiled at him. Bint.

“Who starts?” asked Boot.

“The one who asks that question,” Hermione said and cast the spell on them all.

“All right,” Boot said. “I’ve never cheated on a test.”

Greg, Vince, Smith, Finnigan and Brown drank.

“Okay, my turn,” Abbott said. “Um… I’ve never… Uh… I’ve never had sex with a girl.”

Draco thought it very uninventive that she would copy Hermione’s suggestion. He snorted and drank along with every boy in the room, save Vince who blushed fiercely. Pansy, Daphne, Abbott and one of the Patil twins also drank, eliciting wolf whistles from that plebeian Finnigan.

“I’ve never had sex with a boy,” Smith said.

Every girl in the room drank. So did Harry and Draco, both flushing and avoiding eye contact with anybody, particularly each other.

And then the turn was Pansy’s. She looked at Hermione and nodded then turned her attention to Harry. “Okay. Potter, let’s set some things straight, shall we?” She smiled at him sweetly. Potter stared at her, face blank. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Pansy continued, “I’ve never had sex with Ginny Weasley.”

Harry drank (obviously) along with Longbottom, Finnigan, Thomas, Smith, Boot, Corner, Pansy and Daphne. Most of the people drinking looked various degrees of uncomfortable.

“When did you have sex with her?” Thomas asked Finnigan, frowning.

“You know that week where you were broken up and she wasn’t dating Harry yet?” Finnigan said and Thomas nodded. “Well, she just looked so sad and it sort of just happened, you know?”

“Huh,” Thomas answered.

Harry was looking at Draco pensively. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Still doesn’t mean you didn’t do other things with her.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Draco said harshly and then, even though it wasn’t his turn, said “I’ve never _vo-lun-ta-ri-ly_ done _anything_ of a sexual nature with Ginny Weasley, _including_ but not limited to fucking, licking, sucking or touching genitals, breasts, arse or other erogenous zones. Again, I repeat: _Vo-lun-ta-ri-ly!_ ” Draco _had_ kissed the Weaselette on a dare but it certainly hadn’t been something he had _wanted_ to do so he figured that didn’t count as voluntary.

Harry drank. As did every other male in the room, save Draco, Greg and Vince and, of course, Weasley. It wasn’t that Greg and Vince had done something with her _in_ voluntarily – they just hadn’t received a dare involving her. And Weasley was her brother so that one was a given. Again some of the girls drank as well.

“Oh,” Harry said, frowning and looking embarrassed. “Sorry.” He tried a goofy smile.

Draco just snorted, making sure to sneer at Harry disdainfully, and looked away.

“You know, I’m getting curious,” Daphne said. “I’ve never had sex with Ginny Weasley while she was dating Harry Potter.” Then she smiled gleefully and drank her shot along with Longbottom, Smith, Boot, Corner and Pansy.

“Oh god,” Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Daphne smirked. “And I know for a fact that she also did Goldstein and Cornfoot.”

“Stop, just stop,” Harry said. “I don’t want to hear it.” He rubbed his brow then crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

The game continued, revealing several embarrassing and dirty secrets about all of them.

When they all began heading to bed Harry approached Draco who had just stood up. Harry was holding on to his arm with one hand in a sort of half self-hug.

“Do you think, um…? Could we maybe try again?” he asked quietly.

Draco could say yes and get what he really wanted. However, that would suggest that he was willing to put up with that sort of behaviour and then just roll over, and that was _not_ on. Besides, he really _was_ quite upset and angry with Harry. So he smiled softly at Harry and received a hopeful smile in return. Then he looked to the side where that hideous Brown-girl was standing with one of the Patils.

“Miss Brown,” Draco said and put on his most charming smile. “Would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me into Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

She looked baffled for a moment then returned his smile, batting her eyelashes and again doing the tit-squeezing thing. “Of course.”

“Good,” Draco said, still smiling. “That’s a date then.” He looked at Harry who was standing with his mouth agape, looking surprised and, best of all; hurt. Hah. Draco gave him a vicious smirk and walked to the Slytherin dorm, leaving Harry gawking after him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody. I'm so sorry about the delay in update. I've been bedridden with the flu and tonsillitis for 2 full weeks which has in no way been helpful. I sincerely hope I will be quicker with the next chapter.
> 
> I feel I should apologise to Lavender Brown for this chapter. I fear I may have made her look stupider than she really is. I'm sorry, Lavender - it had to be someone and you just make it so darn easy.

“He has his back to me,” Harry said, his voice full of disbelief, as he, Ron and Hermione sat down for breakfast Saturday morning. “I can’t believe he has his back to me. He _never_ has his back to me. Not ever. Not once.”

Ron and Hermione directed their attention towards the Slytherin table, obviously not in need of Harry clarifying who he was talking about.

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Harry,” Hermione said. “But even so; can you blame him?”

Harry looked at her incredulously. “Can I blame him? I’m the one who was slighted here. I’m the one whose apology was completely ignored. He didn’t even listen to me. _I_ was supposed to take him on a date today.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Harry?” Ron asked

“What do you mean?” Harry looked down and fidgeted with his hands in his lap, signalling that he might have just the teensiest idea what his friends meant.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve spent an entire week completely ignoring him and every attempt he has made to try to talk to you and explain things.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh? How so?” Hermione said curiously. “Because it’s you?”

“Well…” Harry started.

“You know,” Hermione continued, cocking her head, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite as hypocritical as you.”

Shocked and outraged, Harry did a sharp intake of breath and looked at her as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

Next to Hermione Ron nodded sagely in agreement.

“Harry –“ Hermione said, placing her hands on the table and leaning in, “- you had him _beg_. And if you think about it rationally, ‘Draco Malfoy’ and ‘begging’ aren’t words that are commonly heard in the same sentence. At least not with Draco doing the begging. It’s unheard of. And you had him begging, Harry. _Begging!_ And you ignored it. He’s humiliated.”

“I apologised,” Harry argued, and Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes.

“If you think that ‘sorry’ accompanied by that goofy smile of yours and a lame ‘do you think we could, um, try again?’ qualify as an apology I think you’ll find that you are sorely mistaken. It’s pathetic. Especially considering who it is we’re talking about.”

Harry scowled at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side, Harry,” Hermione said as she leaned in further and clasped his hand in hers. “I’m just trying to make you see that this isn’t going to go away just like that. Harry, this is _Draco_ _Malfoy_ we’re talking about. He’s proud. You humiliated him. And quite publically at that. And you hurt him. Badly. He thought you trusted him.”

“She’s right, you know,” Ron said, nodding again.

Harry pulled his hand away from Hermione’s and used it to rub his nose.

“So what do you suggest I do?” he asked.

“ _You_ have to beg,” Hermione said. “You have to grovel.”

“Grovel?”

“Yes, grovel. You practically pissed on his emotions –“ (both Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows at Hermione’s choice of words) “– you can’t expect forgiveness at the first sign of regret on your part.”

Harry sighed. He looked to the Slytherin table again. Draco (he had given up calling him Malfoy – at least in his head if not to his face) was still sitting with his back to Harry. Across from him Zabini and Parkinson were sitting next to each other, the latter looking straight at Harry, wearing an expression that, to Harry, clearly signalled _‘In your face, arsehole’_. He glared at her, causing her to smirk at him. Her lips moved; forming words he couldn’t decipher and he saw Draco stiffen visibly and nearly turn his head. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by a shrill, girlish giggle, the source of which Harry knew without even looking.

He glared down the Gryffindor table and saw Lavender giggling at something Parvati had just said. She blushed and looked past Parvati and towards the Slytherin table.

Harry leaned in and lowered his voice. “I just don’t see why he had to invite Lavender along today,” he hissed. “Couldn’t he have just gone with Parkinson and Zabini?”

“You didn’t honestly think you were going to get away with this without some sort of retaliation, did you?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Ron seconded. “He’s a Slytherin; of course he’s going to want revenge.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked from one to the other. “You’re ganging up on me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re trying to help, Harry. Use our advice or don’t. It’s up to you, really” Hermione said with a nod that signalled the end of the conversation.

Scowling, and in no way in a better mood, Harry went back to poking his breakfast.

*

After breakfast Draco picked up Brown in the common room and they headed off to Hogsmeade together. He made sure that Harry saw them leave together. He also made sure that he did not look in Harry’s direction, pretending he hadn’t noticed Harry’s presence at all, even though Harry called out to him several times.

On their way to Hogsmeade Draco was very aware that Harry was walking at a short distance behind him and made sure to walk very close to Brown. He didn’t enjoy her company and would much rather have joined Pansy and Blaise but that would defeat the object of sticking it to Harry.

Draco was angry. With Harry _and_ with himself. He had thought that Harry genuinely trusted him. How could he have been so stupid!

Sure; Harry was sorry now, and uncomfortable and upset, but Draco planned to be just as unforgiving, rude and unpleasant as Harry had been to him all last week. So Draco revelled in it – making sure Harry got what he deserved. Untrusting bastard.

That was why, when Brown took hold of his arm, clinging to it with both hands as if to make sure he didn’t run away and leaning in to rest her head on his upper arm as they walked, Draco let her.

*

Harry, walking behind Draco on the way to Hogsmeade, noticed immediately when Lavender took hold of Draco’s arm and Draco let her.

He stopped in the middle of the lane without meaning to and just stared.

Hermione and Ron who were walking a few steps behind him, hand in hand, nearly bumped in to him.

“Harry, would you rather go back to the castle?” Hermione asked, looking concerned as her eyes darted in the direction of Harry’s gaze. “I could go with you, and Ron could go to Honeydukes and stock up on sweets and we could get hot chocolate from the kitchens and sit on one of our beds and talk about how stupid Draco is. Would you like that? That would be fine by us, wouldn’t it, Ron?” Ron nodded loyally.

Harry _would_ like that, but he didn’t want to make his friends miss the trip to Hogsmeade – especially since it was their first trip out as a couple, not to mention they were all meant to be buying their Christmas presents. So he shook his head and walked on.

It was a subdued trip. Hermione and Ron tried their best to brighten the mood with idle small talk but were only limitedly successful.

Harry was almost relieved when they split up at one point to be able to buy each other’s presents, and his friends took off hand in hand. At least Ron and Hermione would have a few hours to themselves without Harry acting as a party pooper.

He bought a spell diary and some sugar quills for Hermione, a deluxe broom polish kit and a huge box of chocolate frogs for Ron and a beautiful light blue cashmere scarf for Mrs. Weasley. He already had his presents for Mr. Weasley (a book of muggle DIY projects), the twins (a muggle magician’s box set for inspiration) and Lupin (a copy of The Boy Who Cried Wolf – Harry hoped Lupin would see the funny side of that – and a light grey cardigan).

He had absolutely no idea what to get for Draco. Something that said ‘I’m sorry – can we please try again’ properly. Although he wasn’t even sure that Draco would want something from him under the current circumstances. He didn’t want to get something meaningless and irrelevant. In the end, he decided that he could always get something via owl or sneak into Hogsmeade and get something, should the situation change. He hoped very much that it would.

Hermione had at one point accused Ron of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. Harry feared that his own emotional range could be easily compared to a salt spoon, what with his constant need to have every little thing explained to him. It was embarrassing. And pathetic.

He kicked hard at a big rock lying in the middle of the lane to stress to himself and the world that his current state of mind was… He didn’t even know how to describe it, and tried, in vain, to think of something even smaller than a salt spoon.

It turned out that the big rock was not a loose rock but a larger rock buried underground and poking up. He swore as he stubbed his toe on the rock and reached down to grab his foot and cradle his toes through his boot. It didn’t help at all, so to release pent up irritation he hobbled to the side of the lane to kick a wall hard with his other foot.

That hurt equally, so he immediately reached down to cradle that foot as well, causing him to lose his balance and knock his head hard into the wall. He banged his fists against the wall, bruising his knuckles as he growled loudly with pain and annoyance. Punching a brick wall with your gloves stuffed away in your pockets turned out to be a very bad idea.

“ _Mother fucker!_ ” he shouted as he restrained himself from kicking over a trash can. Instead he lifted the lid and smashed it down on the can several times in frustration, relishing the loud clanking.

He turned his back on the wall and leaned up it, hiding his face in his hands, then pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Finally, pulling his hair, he slid down the wall and slumped down against it.

“Alright there, boy?” the landlord from The Hog’s Head asked, poking his head out from the dodgy inn.

Harry looked up and nodded. “Fine.”

The landlord spared him another look then retreated, closing the door behind him.

Venting taken care of, frustration lessened and most of his shopping done he went to meet Hermione and Ron in front of The Three Broomsticks for lunch.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Ron asked as he caught a closer look at Harry.

“Merlin, were you in a fight?” Hermione looked at him worriedly.

Harry looked at his reflection in the window. He had a large scrape on his forehead that threatened to release drops of blood, the skin on his knuckles was loose or even missing in some places, he was limping, and apparently his coat bore evidence of a slide down the wall in the form of red brick dust all the way up and down his back.

“Only with myself,” he said and didn’t explain any further. “Let’s just go in and get some sodding lunch.”

Hermione and Ron glanced discretely at each other but didn’t push for an explanation, which Harry greatly appreciated.

As the trio entered the pub Harry stopped dead at the sight of Lavender sitting on top of Draco with both her hands holding his head in place and his arms sliding from her shoulders and around her waist.

And she had her tongue stuck as far in to his mouth as was possible.

On two other chairs were Zabini and Parkinson, looking amused and a little bit disgusted.

Harry turned on his heel and left without a word to Ron or Hermione. He didn’t ask them to follow him, but they did even so without question.

As Harry hurried back to the castle, walking as fast as he could without seeming to run, he pondered what on earth he had done to deserve such loyal and wonderful friends. He chose not to dwell on it in order to not get too sentimental.

 

They ended up having lunch on Hermione’s bed (Lavender and Parvati usually got back rather late according to Hermione, so they’d most likely have the room to themselves) in the form of sandwiches from the kitchens and an after-lunch snack in the form of an obscene amount of Honeydukes products and hot chocolate with marshmallows, also courtesy of the elves.

“I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do now,” Harry said when he had finished eating and was lying back on Hermione’s bed, resting against the headboard.

Hermione had healed his self-inflicted injuries and Harry was feeling marginally better because of it and the substantial lunch.

“Would it help if we had a little session of Analysing Harry?” Hermione asked, placing her hand consolingly on his knee.

“Don’t know if it’ll help,” Harry answered glumly. “I already know what the problem is. It’s a solution I need.”

“Well, maybe we can work our way towards that as well,” Hermione suggested.

“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding. “We should talk about it. Talking is healthy,” he said, causing Harry to smile a small smile.

He sighed. “Fine.” He remained in his spot on the bed, resting against the headboard while the other two conjured chairs and sat on either side of the bed. They were both looking a bit too eager to Harry’s taste and he got the distinct feeling they were both enjoying these little sessions of ‘Dissecting Harry’s mind’ just a little too much.

In the light of that thought… “I don’t suppose…” Harry said and then bit his lip and blushing slightly.

“What?” Ron asked.

“I don’t suppose I could persuade one of you to offer a head rub?” He glanced from one to the other. Ron was sitting with his mouth slightly agape and Hermione looked amused.

None of them answered.

“It’s just…” Harry continued. “It’s much easier to loosen up and talk when one is undergoing a head rub. Plus I’m in distress.”

Hermione nodded once. “That’s true. Ron, you should do it.”

“Why me?” Ron looked at her incredulously.

“Well, do you want me to sit with Harry’s head in my lap? You weren’t too keen on me getting a massage from Draco that time.”

“Because you were practically naked. And you were on the receiving end. _And_ you’ve admitted you think Draco’s attractive.”

“Harry is attractive, too,” Hermione argued, causing both Harry and Ron to utter a “what?”

“Well he is,” Hermione said. “He’s fit.”

Harry blushed furiously.

“I’m your boyfriend,” Ron said. “You’re supposed to think _I’m_ fit.”

Hermione threw her arms out. “I didn’t say you weren’t. But it was Harry we were discussing.”

“And Draco,” Ron argued.

“Yes. And Draco. And getting back to that; I was not naked,” Hermione argued on and Harry got the feeling that this was a discussion the couple had before.

“Were too,” Ron argued back.

“ _Hey_!” Harry snapped. “We’re getting away from the important stuff here. Who’s going to rub my fricking head?”

Hermione sighed and gave Ron a very ‘Mrs. Weasley’ look. “Okay, Ron. I’ll do his head and you can do his feet.”

“My feet?” Harry asked.

“His feet?” Ron asked at the same time.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I hear it’s soothing. And I’m not doing the entire job. Listen, Ron, Harry is suffering. Just do it.”

“Fine, I’ll do his stupid feet,” Ron relented.

Ron was extremely reluctant to touch ‘Harry’s stinky feet’ until Hermione cast a charm that covered his hands in lavender-scented oil. That immediately got Harry thinking of Draco and the first time they had sex and he tensed up. It also got him thinking of Lavender (the girl) which also wasn’t helpful. Fortunately Hermione caught on immediately and changed the scent to something citrusy. Which reminded Harry of the smell of Draco’s shampoo and soaps. So he tensed up again.

Hermione huffed. “ _You_ pick a scent then, and I’ll cast it.”

Harry picked treacle which had both Ron and Hermione scrunching their noses and Ron even making small gagging noises as he was the one whose hands were drenched in the very sweet scent.

But they didn’t make him change it. Because that’s what best friends do when one of them is sad, Harry thought and almost got melancholic.

When they were all finally settled – Hermione with Harry’s head in her lap and Ron with Harry’s feet in his – they began yet another session of ‘Analysing Harry’.

“Okay then; tell us what you are feeling, Harry,” Hermione said in a voice that led Harry’s thoughts to Professor Trelawney. He wisely refrained from saying so.

“Hurt, angry, upset and sad,” Harry said without having to think about it.

“Why are you hurt?” Hermione asked, once again leading Harry’s thoughts to Trelawney.

“Because he went out with Lavender instead of me. And because Ginny would actually stoop so low. But mostly the first thing. Actually, I don’t care much about Ginny right now – only in the context that it’s all her fault.”

“And why are you angry?” Hermione continued.

“Both of the above,” Harry answered. “And I’m angry with myself for being so fucking stubborn and not just listen to him when he tried to talk to me. And angry with him for not forgiving me afterwards.”

“But do you understand why he didn’t forgive you?”

Harry turned his head and tried to look at her as much as was possible in their current position. “Yes. Because we already covered that at breakfast. I thought we were doing that thing where I don’t have to reason with myself and just accept that I feel the things I feel and that’s okay. What happened to that?”

“Sorry,” she answered, not sounding very sorry. “Please, do continue.”

“I’m upset because I had a feeling we could be starting something really good and now it’s just gone. And that’s also why I’m sad.”

“Good,” Hermione said in her Trelawney-voice. “We’ve established what you are feeling and why.”

“Yes, but I already knew that, so it’s really no progress at all,” Harry said sourly.

“I know,” Hermione agreed. “But it’s a start.”

Ron didn’t contribute with anything but Harry could tell he was listening.

“But what should I do?” Harry whined. “He won’t talk to me.”

“Would it be over the top to – I don’t know – kidnap Draco and force him to listen to what you have to say?” Ron asked and Harry could practically hear the eye rolling that most likely accompanied Hermione’s deep sigh.

“Of course it would, Ronald,” she said exasperatedly. “And Draco won’t care about any explanation anyway.”

“Thanks a lot, Hermione. You really understand how to lighten the mood,” Harry snapped.

“Would you rather I lie to you?”

Harry grumbled something unintelligible and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Listen,” Hermione said, “It hurt Draco deeply that you didn’t take the time to listen to what he had to say. Particularly since you agreed to hear Ginny out. You have to consider what that signals.”

Harry frowned and didn’t answer, and Hermione explained; “it could signal that Ginny meant and still means more to you than Draco does.”

“But she didn’t,” Harry said firmly. “She doesn’t.”

“That may very well be, but you didn’t even consider hearing Draco out –“ Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione continued. “No, Harry, I’m not blaming you, I’m trying to get you to see why Draco reacts the way he does. He thought you trusted him and it hurt him to suddenly realise that you didn’t after all.”

“But I do trust him,” Harry said firmly.

“Yes, but you also trust your eyes, Harry,” Hermione argued. “As do most people. He just thought you would at least trust him enough to hear him out.”

“But –“ Harry began, but Hermione ignored him.

“And I know I’ve said this before, but adding to that, being Draco Malfoy it hurt his pride immensely that he actually tried to get you to talk to him _several_ times. And you turned him down every single time. And then you come up after finally realising that he didn’t really try to break your heart and just say ‘sorry’ with that goofy smile of yours and ask him if perhaps you can try again…”

“Well, yeah, I mean what was I supposed to say?”

“You were supposed to ask if you could talk. And when he said no, which he would, you were supposed to ask again and again and again. Then you were supposed to beg. And grovel.”

“You already said that earlier today.” Harry said. “It feels like we’re on repeat somehow.”

“Yes, well it’s true,” Hermione said again. “Draco is a very proud person and if he had just agreed to try again immediately that would suggest to you and everyone else that you can toy with him and treat him any way you like, and he will just come running back after you’re done treating him like shit, as long as you say ‘sorry’.”

Both Harry and Ron turned their heads to look at her, slack-jawed and eyes wide due to her choice of word. For the second time that day.

Hermione huffed. “I’m sorry to say it, Harry, but you’ve been acting like a right arse.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Hermione,” Ron chastised.

“And also not very constructive,” Harry added. He had turned around again and Hermione had resumed the head rub.

“I know,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry.” At least she sounded like she meant it this time.

“Say, Harry,” Ron said after a little while of silence.

“Mm,” Harry hummed to show he was listening.

“Have you thought about _why_ you didn’t want to hear him out, when you agreed to listen to what Ginny had to say? I mean, she’s supposed to have hurt you much worse.”

Harry frowned. “She didn’t. It hurt so much more when I thought he…” He swallowed hard. “When I saw them it felt like a literal punch in the gut. Like someone was literally trying to pull my heart out through my chest. It didn’t feel like that when I caught Ginny at it. Then I just felt angry.”

He suddenly sat up. “I think,” he said, his eyes widening, and pointing his index finger at nothing in particular, “I think I was confused about why it felt so different from when I caught Ginny and Neville. And I think I was afraid of what that might mean. And of what he might say if I talked to him. If he might say something I didn’t want to hear. Something that would hurt me more.”

He leaned back again and Hermione resumed the head rub. “You’re a genius, Ron,” he said.

“Always the tone of surprise,” Ron said, looking pleased with himself.

“Harry?” Hermione asked quietly, and Harry had a feeling he thought what might come next. “Are you –“

“Don’t say it,” Harry interrupted.

“Why not?” Hermione asked

“Because then I’d have to consider it.”

“Were you… you know… with Ginny?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, frowning. “I don’t think so.”

Considering the worried look on Harry’s face, Ron asked, “Would you rather not talk about this?”

“Yes,” Harry answered and they thankfully let the subject rest.

They continued to sit in silence, Hermione and Ron still absentmindedly working on Harry’s head and feet. Despite the both unproductive and somewhat worrying session of ‘Analysing Harry’, he was getting a sense of immense relaxation due to the massages and the scent of the treacle oil. He lay with his eyes closed, making small humming noises.

However, he inevitably involuntarily got to thinking about Hermione’s almost-question. He leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands, and groaned.

“This is so fucking fucked up. Fucking fuck.”

Hermione got up on her knees and hugged him from behind as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“There, there, Harry,” she said quietly. She squeezed him lightly. Then she patted his chest with the palms of her hands several times and began prodding at it with both her index fingers.

“See, Ron,” she said in an ‘I told you so’ sort of voice, completely different from the calm and quiet one she had just been using to console Harry, and Ron looked at her questioningly.

“Harry _is_ fit.” She took hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up to show off Harry’s chest.

“Hey,” Harry all but shrieked. He grabbed at Hermione’s hands to get her to pull the shirt down again.

“For crying out loud, woman, we share a dorm – I know Harry’s fit,” Ron said.

“Then what’s the problem?” Hermione asked, still holding up Harry’s T-shirt as he tried to wriggle loose from her grip.

“I’m just saying _you_ shouldn’t notice that he’s fit,” Ron argued. “You should think I’m the only one who’s fit, and you should swoon over _me_. I’m fit too.” He let go of Harry’s feet, letting them rest in his lap as he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up, showing his abs.

“This is a madhouse,” Harry said, pulling at the hem of his T-shirt.

“But I _do_ swoon over you,” Hermione told Ron, acting as if Harry’ wasn’t even in the room, yet still with a firm grip on his shirt. “You have lovely abs, too, you know,” she told Ron who looked pleased with himself.

“Hermione, for the love of Merlin, will you let go of my shirt immediately,” Harry said firmly and took hold of both her hands.

Just then, the door opened.

*

Draco was sitting at a table in The Three Broomsticks with Brown – well, Draco supposed he’d better call her Lavender; at least to her face –, Blaise and Pansy. There were four chairs at the table and yet the silly cow immediately took her seat on top of Draco, much to Draco’s aggravation and Pansy and Blaise’s amusement. She also wasted no time taking forcibly hold of his face and forcing her tongue into his mouth.

Draco’s eyes widened comically and he grabbed her shoulders with the intention of removing her.

“Look, there’s Potter,” Pansy announced right then in a would-be casual tone of voice and a nod in the direction of the door.

Draco was unable to turn his head and look towards the entrance because of the firm grip Brown – _Lavender_ – had on his face. He looked to the side as much as he was able and, quite rightly, peripherally saw Harry gawking at him, looking hurt and distressed (at least from what Draco was able to interpret out of the corner of his eye). So his reluctance to the involuntary kiss immediately turned to ice cold determination, and he slid his arms around Lavender’s waist, tilted his head and kissed her back.

“And he’s gone,” Pansy announced shortly after.

Draco straightaway removed his hands from around Brown’s waist and pushed at her shoulders while leaning back as much as he could in order to break the kiss. When he finally succeeded she threw her arms around his neck instead and squeezed him tight.

“Oh, Dray-Dray,” she sighed, and Draco’s eyes widened with horror at the terrible choice of nickname.

Pansy and Blaise were both snickering unhelpfully. The bastards.

“All right, enough, woman!” Draco said firmly and Lavender released his neck from her grip. Instead she buried both her hands in his hair and looked dreamily into his eyes. Then she leaned in to kiss him again.

“Enough!” Draco said before she could succeed. “Remove yourself from my body. And let go of my hair this instant. And don’t ever call me that again.” He smoothed his hair carefully.

Lavender pouted but acquiesced. She sat down on the spare chair and continued pouting and looking at him reprovingly, though her reproachful looks soon changed to the familiar batting of eyelashes and the squeezing her arms around her breasts to boost her cleavage.

Pansy and Blaise were watching Lavender with amazement. Well, Blaise changed his focus to her bosom with interest when she began the ‘tit-squeezing’.

Draco cleared his throat. “We should order.”

 

About an hour and a half later they had ordered, received and consumed their lunch.

Throughout their meal Lavender had tried to intertwine her legs with Draco’s, and he had spent the same amount of time trying to avoid getting caught, without it seeming as if he was purposefully avoiding it.

He had scooted his chair as far away from her as possible, though still within a range that could be considered polite.

When they had all finished, Lavender leaned in and asked in what Draco thought was supposed to be a seductively husky voice but mostly sounded as if she had been smoking for twenty years, “Would you like to come back to my dorm and see my beauty product collection?”

A snort sounded from across the table where Pansy was covering her mouth in poorly concealed amusement, and Blaise was cradling his cheeks with both hands while grinning and shaking his head lightly, in both amusement and bemusement.

Lavender ignored them.

“Why on earth would I want to see your beauty product collection?” Draco asked.

First of all; who on earth in their right mind would answer ‘yes’ to that? Second; that had to be the lamest pick-up-line Draco had ever come across. Third; he was planning to avoid being alone in the same room as Brown – particularly rooms with beds in them, as he had a feeling she was ‘ _that_ _type_ ’ of girl. Not that there was anything wrong with ‘ _that type_ ’ of girl; Pansy was ‘ _that type’_ of girl, too – Draco just had no desire to be exposed to that particular girl’s urges, as he had an inkling that she was not one to take no for an answer.

He had only asked her to go with him in to Hogsmeade in order to punish Harry and had no desire to go through with anything other than a bit of light snogging.

“It’s in my dorm,” she said again, using that hoarse smoker’s voice.

“I assumed as much,” Draco said dryly.

“Where we can be alone,” Brown explained further.

“ _I’d_ _love_ to see your beauty product collection,” Blaise said helpfully, leaning in and leering at Brown who frowned at him.

Pansy snorted at the sight. “Well, she didn’t offer to show it to you, Blaise. Draco, you just go along with Brown. You’re a grown man. I’m sure you can handle yourself. And Brown isn’t going to do something to you that you don’t want to do. Is she?” Pansy looked sternly at Brown who blushed and shook her head.

So, somehow, Draco ended up leaving Hogsmeade early to go have a look at Brown’s beauty product collection. Oh joy; the anticipation…

 

When Brown opened the door to her dorm Draco was hit full force by the scent of too many perfumes, lotions, incense and what have you that contaminated the room.

“Oops… Are we disturbing something?” Brown asked and Draco directed his attention in the direction of her gaze.

Draco scanned the picture before him with a raised eyebrow. Harry was sitting back on his heels on Hermione’s bed, his hair tousled even more than usual. Hermione was sitting behind him, holding up his T-shirt, so his chest was showing, and Harry had his hands over hers.

Harry’s feet were lying in Ron’s lap, and Ron was lifting up his own T-shirt, showing off his chest. They all turned to look in the direction of the intruders, all looking very much like they had just been caught doing something illicit.

“Hello Lavender,” Hermione said calmly as she carefully pulled down Harry’s T-shirt to cover his bare chest. “Hello Draco.”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Ron added quickly, pulling his T-shirt down, concealing his chest and instead, for some reason, grabbing a firm hold of Harry’s naked feet.

Harry glared pointedly at Ron; no doubt thinking that ‘ _this isn’t what it looks like_ ’ would indicate that it _did_ look like _something_ and that they were aware of it.

“What is that sweet smell?” Brown asked, scrunching up her nose and sniffing, and Draco was impressed that she was able to distinguish one sweet scent from the other that contaminated the room (save Hermione’s sleeping area). Apparently Harry thought so, too, as he also looked at Brown in silent surprise.

 “It’s treacle,” Ron explained. “For Harry’s feet,” he added as if that explained a whole lot.

“ _Ron_!” Harry shouted exasperatedly and Ron looked confused.

“What?” he asked. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to touch you without it.”

“For Merlin’s sake, shut up, Ron. _Please_!” Harry begged.

“What?” Ron asked, bewildered. “What did I do?”

“I think what Potter is trying to convey,” Draco said calmly, “is that your explanations about his… foot rub could, to some, sound like you were using _actual_ treacle with the purpose of covering his feet in it for some erotic purpose – perhaps licking it off – and that you should stop talking as to not express any further unintended innuendo.”

Ron gawked at Draco and blushed, as did Harry.

“Though knowing how you Gryffindors feel about your feet, it might actually not be too far off the mark,” Draco continued with the episode in mind of Hermione, Ron and himself sitting on her bed sockless and trying to solve Harry’s problems. “Especially combined with the fact that you were in the process of undressing when Lavender and I entered the room. In which case he would be trying to get you to stop giving away information about the adventurous sex life of the Golden Trio.”

Ron blushed even further.

At that moment Hermione, who had sat back on the bed against the headboard, not-so-discretely nudged Harry with her foot. He turned to look at her and she raised both eyebrows and sort of nodded in the direction of Draco in an also not-so-subtle way.

Harry turned to look at Draco. “Um, Draco, could we possibly talk? Please?” Harry asked.

Draco _would_ like to talk to Harry but there was no way Harry was going to get away with walking all over him so easily.

“Hmm… No.”

“Please?”

“No. Come on, Lavender. We apologise for the interruption.”

Draco made sure that Harry didn’t fail to notice the way he slid his hand up Brown’s back and draped his arm around her shoulders.

Brown giggled and greeted them with a sing-song “have fuuun,” as she and Draco left the room.

“Well, that was awkward,” Brown said as the door to the Gryffindor girls’ dorm closed. “They must have let Harry take your place.”

Draco found it impossible to determine whether she just made a joke or if she really was that dense. He suspected the latter.

Instead of seeing Brown’s beauty product collection they opted for sitting in the common room which suited Draco just fine.

He retrieved a book from his dorm and Brown settled down on the sofa of Draco’s choice with her head in his lap – completely uninvited – as Draco, not for the first time, silently cursed himself for asking her out in the first place. He should have just gone for the silent treatment.

At least, being in the common room, he was safe for now.

 

Sunday morning Draco got up early in an attempt to avoid Brown who had turned out to be _extremely_ clingy. She had tried to get him to spend the night in her dorm or let her spend the night in his, which he had made very clear was _not_ going to happen.

During the entire day, from the way to Hogsmeade until they went to bed, she had clung to him. She had not once let go. Literally. At all. Well, except to ‘let him’ go to the bathroom.

The only plus side to it was that it had made Harry look miserable. And that git deserved to be punished for what he did. Arse.

Draco was one of very few people who had decided to come for an early breakfast. Only three other students were sitting at the Slytherin table and the number of students at the other tables was equally limited.

He was enjoying his morning coffee when someone sat down opposite him. He looked up, expecting to see a fellow 7th year. Instead he was faced with the Weaselette who had sat down with a piece of toast and was now looking intently at him.

“How are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked seriously.

“Fuck off, Weaselette,” he answered.

“No, I don’t think I will,” she said and cocked her head. “How’s it going with Harry?”

“That’s none of your business,” Draco answered.

“That’s okay. I can find out by myself. We’re meeting up later today to talk things over.”

Draco looked at her blank-faced as he rolled his eyes inwardly.

“Yes,” the Weaselette continued, “he sent me a note, saying he would like to meet up to try to work things out. Apologised for hooking up with you. He said he was jealous because I kissed so many different people at the games and he was only with you to make me jealous.”

Draco remained quiet, face still blank.

“And _I_ was jealous of the two of you which is why I accidentally slept with someone else. Turns out it was all one big misunderstanding. Funny, isn’t it?” she asked and laughed a small laugh.

“Hilarious,” Draco answered drily.

The Weaselette continued smiling at him. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?” she asked.

Draco cocked his head. “Can you blame me?”

The Weaselette sighed. “I have the note here – you can see it if you like.” She handed over a note and Draco took it.

 

_Dear Ginny,_

_We need to talk. Everything is one big misunderstanding. The only reason I went with Draco was to make you jealous. You were kissing so many other guys at those games and I just couldn’t take it. Then you got jealous and accidentally slept with someone else. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it had to come to that._

_Please meet with me tomorrow (Sunday). I’ll be waiting for your reply and we can arrange when and where._

_I miss you._

_\- Harry_

 

Draco smiled inwardly at the pathetic attempt to trick him with another note.

“Well, you’ve shown before that you’re quite the note-writer.”

“Yes, there is that against me, isn’t there?” she said, nodding.

“Now listen, she-Weasel; I’m going to give you some free advice: First: Trying to use the same trick as you used once before – call it a ‘signature move’ – is nothing short of pathetic. Second: You haven’t even bothered to attempt a proper impression of his handwriting.” The Weaselette raised her brows in surprise.

“Yes,” Draco continued, “We’ve been Potions partners for nearly a term now. Did you think I wouldn’t know what his handwriting looks like? If that term can even be used for those scribbles he likes to call writing.”

She cocked her head. “You didn’t question the note from Hermione like that.”

“I’m not as familiar with her handwriting,” Draco answered. “Plus, she’s a girl and so are you. It’s easier to forge handwriting for someone from the same sex.”

“You’d know, would you?” the Weaselette asked drily.

Draco merely looked at her, then continued his lecture.

“And lastly: It is ridiculous to assume that anyone would believe that Harry would let you sleeping with at least five other people pass as ‘accidental’. That and the fact that you just used the same phrase in an independent sentence. Just, you know; advice for future misdeeds.”

She looked at him with a sour expression on her face. Then she sighed. “Well, I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I’m going to get Harry back.”

“Right,” Draco said drily.

“See you later.”

“I hope not,” Draco said, unable to come up with a better remark.

The Weaselette smiled as she got up and left.

Draco snorted audibly at the pathetic attempt on the Weaselette’s side to thicken the plot.

Then he felt a bout of annoyance and anger coming on at the thought. This was all her fault: Harry and Draco falling out, Draco lowering himself to begging, Draco resorting to asking out the Brown-girl and suffer her clinginess for an entire day, Draco most likely having to suffer her clinginess for a couple more days to not let Harry get away with it that easily.

He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted like tar. Or something equally nasty. So he pushed away the cup.

He frowned, rubbing his brow and looking down at his plate. There was still food on it, but he had lost his appetite. He pushed it aside. Then he banged his head on the table a few times until McGonagall, who was one of the staff members down for breakfast, ordered him to stop. Then he just resorted to resting his head on the table and groaning lightly.

After a few minutes of groaning he felt a gust up wind and a rustle in front of him that suggested the Weaselette had returned.

“Fuck off, bitch,” he said, his head still resting on the table.

“Excuse me?”

Draco raised his head from the table and saw Pansy sitting across from him, looking surprised.

“Sorry,” Draco said. “I thought you were the she-Weasel.”

“Why would you think that?” Pansy asked bemused, picking up a napkin and wiping bacon grease off his forehead and picking a small piece of toast out of his hair.

“She just came to see me. She wanted to gloat about the fact that she had got a note from Harry that asked her to meet him today and talk things over. The note said he was sorry and he only hooked up with me to make her jealous because he was jealous of her. Then she said that she had only slept around to make him jealous because she was jealous of me. One big misunderstanding.”

“And you believed her?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. I find it hard to think.” Draco suddenly felt lost.

“Don’t you think it might be a good idea for the two of you to have a talk? I mean; he obviously wants to talk to you and I’m fairly certain you want to talk to him, too.”

“At some point,” Draco answered. “For now I just want him to realise that I am not a person to be treated with such disrespect and then just roll over and take it, so to speak. My pride is wounded. I have to show I still have some.”

“Is your pride the only reason you’re hurt?” Pansy asked, considering him carefully.

Draco cleared his throat and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve never seen you quite as happy as the one week you were going out.”

“So?”

Pansy sighed. “When you and I dated, if I had found you in a similar position and then refused to talk to you, would you have been as insistent in your efforts to get me to talk to you?”

“No,” Draco answered after a short pause.

“And why is that?” Pansy asked. She didn’t look insulted or anything – just curious.

“Because I wouldn’t have a problem finding someone else. Besides, it wouldn’t matter, because _I’d_ know I didn’t do it. Sure, I might miss you or some similar feeling but I’d get over it fairly easily.”

Pansy snorted. “Thanks a lot, prick.”

“You asked,” Draco said, shrugging.

“I did,” Pansy acknowledged. “And that Ravenclaw last year, if she’d refused to talk to you?”

Draco snorted again. “Would have saved me the trouble of getting rid of her. She was annoyingly clingy.”

“Potter’s clingy, too,” Pansy said. “You barely let go of each other for a week. And when you weren’t able to touch you never left each other’s sight.”

“That’s different,” Draco said.

“And why is it that the same rules don’t apply to Potter, do you think? I mean, you could easily find someone else – hell, you already _have_ found someone else.”

“Your point?” Draco asked through gritted teeth.

“I’d like you to consider _why_ it is that different rules apply in this case – why you were willing to resort to begging. Why you’ve been moping around like a kicked puppy instead of just moving on like you normally would. Seriously, darling, it’s been scary. And I’d like you to consider that maybe your heart was hurt as well as your pride, if not more, and why that is.”

“I’m perfectly aware of what you’re getting at, and I don’t want to consider that,” Draco said, his jaw tightening.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s scary, alright? Besides, I have no idea what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Pansy’s eyes widened in surprise. “At all?”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “At all!”

“You’ve never…?”

“Not once.”

“Not even me?”

“We were fourteen, Pansy.”

“ _I_ loved _you_.”

Draco couldn’t determine whether the look on Pansy’s face was surprise, incredulity or slightly hurt. Perhaps a mixture of all three.

“You don’t now, though, right?” he had to ask, just to make sure.

“Only like a brother.” She smiled.

“Considering that up until a month ago we were having sex on an almost regular basis, that’s actually quite disgusting, Pansy,” Draco said.

Pansy laughed. “Point taken. A step brother then. Or an adopted brother.”

“Still disgusting.”

“Not if it’s not related by blood,” Pansy argued, crossing her arms. “Besides, you’re not my brother in any way, so we’re fine. You’re evading the subject.”

Draco had hoped to manoeuvre away from the topic and _keep_ avoiding it. “It’s way too early to, you know… ‘ _that’_.”

At that Pansy had the audacity to actually throw back her head and laugh. “There are no rules regarding that, darling. You can’t control where your heart takes you.”

Draco uncrossed his arms and leaned towards Pansy. “But I’m a Malfoy,” he tried to reason with her. “I’m supposed to be in control of all bodily functions.”

“But the heart isn’t a bodily function, Draco,” Pansy said, and Draco raised an eyebrow at that ridiculous statement.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She laughed again. “Darling, this is turning into one of those conversations where you absolutely know I’m right but you refuse to acknowledge it because the truth doesn’t suit you. And it’s turning way too philosophical for this time of the morning. Would it really be so horrible?”

Draco fidgeted and his eyes flickered. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “It’s just too fucking scary, Pansy, alright?”

“I know, darling, I know.” Pansy reached over and took Draco’s hand and squeezed it, and Draco suddenly found his eyes itching and his nose starting to run. He couldn’t even really determine why.

“I think my allergies are returning,” he said, not meeting Pansy’s eyes and his voice annoyingly thick.

“I heard that happens sometimes. Let’s go up and I’ll stay with you until they’re gone, yeah?”

“I think that would be wise,” Draco said quietly. Pansy was the only one, apart from Harry and Moaning Myrtle – but she was dead so she didn’t count – and his mother of course, who had ever seen him… get allergic, and he found her presence soothing.

Managing to avoid Brown, they entered the Slytherin boys’ dorm and retreated to his bed without greeting the other boys who were beginning to rise.

Pansy completely ignored the boys’ surprised yelp at her sudden presence as they were getting dressed, and she resolutely climbed onto Draco’s bed, charmed the drapes shut and cast a silencing charm. Then she lay down, pulled Draco close, cradled him, and started stroking his hair as she made soothing shushing sounds.

Draco liked her shushing sounds. They were comforting, and having been up as early as he had, he soon drifted off to sleep.

*

As Harry got dressed Sunday morning he contemplated how to go about the whole Draco-thing. He had tried talking to Draco several times the previous day, but to no avail. He could, albeit reluctantly, understand why Draco was acting the way he was, as Harry would have most likely reacted the same way himself, but that didn’t make it any less aggravating.

As he exited his dorm he saw Lavender approaching Zabini who was heading for the portrait hole.

“Where’s Draco?” she asked, her hands propped on her hips. She seemed as if she had been waiting for him to show up for a while.

“In his bed with Pansy,” Zabini answered without further explanation. Harry felt the little hairs on his neck rise and a cold shiver run down his back.

Lavender gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes widening. “What are they doing there?” she whispered.

“I really couldn’t say,” Zabini answered. “They came storming in without a word, charmed the drapes shut and put up a privacy charm.”

“Do you think…?” Lavender whispered.

Zabini cocked his head pensively. Then he walked over to her and laid his hands on her shoulders, looking her deep in the eyes. “We shall get to the bottom of this, Lavender,” he said seriously, “and if it turns out that Draco is cheating on you I shall be more than happy to comfort you. I promise you that.”

Harry got the distinct feeling Zabini was mocking her, and though he didn’t care much for Lavender at the moment for obvious reasons he didn’t think it very nice of Zabini to talk to her like that.

He also didn’t like the phrase ‘ _cheating on you_ ’ that Zabini had used as that would suggest that Draco and Lavender were, in fact, an item. Perhaps Draco sleeping with Parkinson would break them up? That would be nice, Harry thought. Although that would mean that Draco had slept with Parkinson. And he definitely didn’t like that thought. Or maybe it would be enough if Lavender just _thought_ he’d slept with Parkinson.

He watched Zabini and his dorm mates leave the common room, leaving Lavender behind, looking between the portrait hole and the Slytherin dorm. She went over to the Slytherin boys’ dorm and put her hand on the handle. That’s a bad idea, Harry thought, and watched as Lavender came to the same conclusion. Instead she turned an armchair to face the dorm in question and sat down, one leg over the other and arms crossed and staring intently at the door.

“ _Harry._ ” He suddenly became aware of Ron calling out to him loudly and waving his hand in front of Harry’s face.

Harry blinked a few times. “What?”

“I was just wondering if you’re in there,” Ron said, pointing at Harry’s head.

“Huh?” Harry asked confused.

“You looked like you were miles away, and you’re chewing your lip so hard it’s going to start bleeding soon.”

“Oh,” Harry said, releasing his molested lip. “I wasn’t aware. I guess I was thinking.”

“That was the conclusion I came to,” Ron said with a small smile. “Come on, mate, let’s go to breakfast before you chew your lip off.”

 

“I choose to believe that Draco is not having sex with Parkinson as we speak,” Harry announced as he and Ron were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall along with Hermione who had joined them.

Hermione looked at him slightly confused. “Okay. Is there a reason you _would_ believe that?”

“She’s in his bed right now. As we speak. In his bed. With him.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Zabini just told Lavender.”

“That could very easily have been a lie, Harry,” Ron said.

“It wasn’t. I’m sure of it.”

Hermione’s brow creased as she looked at Harry worriedly. “Well, I think it is very good that you believe he’s not having sex with her.”

Harry nodded. He was focusing very hard to look nonchalant.

“It would be even more convincing if you didn’t look quite so constipated,” Ron said, his mouth full of sausage.

“You know, it’s okay to not like the fact that they’re in his bed together,” Hermione said. “Not liking it doesn’t necessarily mean that you think they’re having sex. Right, Ron?”

“Right,” Ron agreed, nodding.

“Right,” Harry said as well and relaxed somewhat again. “I then choose to believe that he is not having sex with Parkinson, but I also choose to not like the fact that they’re together in his bed.” He nodded and directed his focus on his breakfast.

 

When they returned to the common room from breakfast Harry was immediately greeted by the sight of Draco sitting in a sofa with Lavender sitting on his lap with her tongue down his throat.

“Well,” Ron said. “Looks like he really didn’t sleep with Parkinson.”

“Told you so,” Harry said as if they had disagreed on the topic. He stood for a while, looking at the spectacle.

“Harry, would you just go talk to him,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “Ron and I will go study in the library and you can join us later.”

“We will?” asked Ron, who had most likely planned on doing nothing of the kind.

“Yes,” Hermione answered.

Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged. Then he placed a fond kiss on her cheek, making her smile.

“I guess I should try to talk to him again.” He vaguely registered Ron and Hermione walking off to get their things to head for the library as he walked to where Draco was sitting with Lavender in his lap and his tongue buried deep in her mouth.

Harry chewed his lip and frowned as he observed the couple on the sofa.

There was no reaction from them so he cleared his throat. Still no reaction, though he was certain that Draco had heard him.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked.

No reaction.

“Draco, could we please just talk?” he asked.

After a few moments’ further snogging, Draco broke the kiss and looked up at Harry. His lips were pink and puffy and Harry’s stomach twisted at the sight.

“Please?” Harry said. He wondered if he looked as lost as he felt.

Draco momentarily put the snogging on hold and looked up. “Unobservant though you may be, surely you can see that I am busy,” he answered haughtily. “And I can assure you that my current activity is far more pleasing and interesting than anything you could come up with.”

Lavender giggled and began kissing Draco’s neck and jaw, which tensed up almost unnoticeably.

Despite a rising frustration Harry managed to keep his voice level. “Please,” he said quietly.

“We have nothing to talk about, Potter,” Draco said, sneering. His eyes were cold and unforgiving and Harry felt a surge of annoyance.

“Stop being such a stubborn git,” he said, propping his hands on his hips. “The least you can do is talk to me.”

“Oh, is it?” Draco asked. He stood up, causing Lavender to slide off his lap and land onto the floor with a yelp and a thump. “Because I recall saying something similar last week. Several times. I also recall being denied it. So I repeat: You and I have _nothing_ to talk about, so you can just _piss_ off, Potter.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, last week I was labouring under the misapprehension that you had slept with my ex-girlfriend, and I was under the impression that you had done so as part of an elaborate scheme to ensure my downfall by a broken heart. I’ve realised now that I was wrong and that Ginny was to blame for the entire thing and that I’ve treated you rather badly.”

“Wow,” Draco looked mock-impressed and covering his mouth theatrically with a hand. “Did you figure that out all by yourself?” Then he put on a mock-concerned expression, creasing his brow with fake worry. “Did it hurt your tiny brain?” He reassumed his sneer. “Get lost, Potter,” he said and sat down on the sofa again. Then he patted his lap, indicating that Lavender should resume her seat. With a last sneer at Harry Draco went back to snogging Lavender.

Harry turned on his feet and went to his dorm, intending to start on his dream diary in there. He had no desire to go to the library or sit in the common room.

 

When Harry’s stomach began to rumble he headed for the library in search of Ron and Hermione to see if they wanted to join him for lunch. After a small search he found the table they had been sitting at; their things were still there but they were nowhere in sight.

Harry moved between the shelves, whispering their names in hope that they would hear him.

Having searched between all the shelves in the regular section of the library in vain, he eventually reached the Restricted Section.

What he found made him want to scourgify his eyes: He was greeted by the horrible sight of Ron turned against the wall, supporting his weight with his hands on the wall. That in itself wasn’t so bad.

If only Harry’s focus wasn’t automatically drawn towards the largest area of bare skin in the form of his best friend’s arse, muscles clenching and unclenching as he thrust into his other best friend, whose legs were lodged firmly around his waist, ankles locked on his back.

And if only Harry wasn’t suddenly hyper aware of the light panting from Hermione whose head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed, and of the light grunting from Ron whose head was buried in the crook of Hermione’s neck.

Harry’s eyes widened in horrified surprise. He let out an involuntary “eep” and immediately turned around with the intention of getting the hell away from there as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, the sight of his friends having sex had apparently done something to his coordination skills, causing him to bump directly into a shelf behind him that he was convinced had not been there a moment ago. The shelf wobbled but luckily did not fall over, and he felt his way blindly away from the scene, eyes shut tight.

Eyes shut tight and feeling his way along the shelves Harry was not able to cover his ears and he heard a distinct ‘ _shit_ ’ and ‘ _I_ knew _this was a bad idea,_ ’ from the couple a few shelves further in.

He finally made his way out of the Restricted Section and stood frozen to the spot, colour drained from his face eyes wide open, slightly queasy and for some reason slightly out of breath.

After a couple of minutes Ron and Hermione emerged from the shelves behind him. Hermione strode right past him, nose in the air and obviously trying to look as if she had not just been caught having sex in the library. She didn’t succeed.

Ron stopped next to Harry without looking at him.

“Well that was a sight I could have done without,” Harry said.

“Said the exhibitionist,” Ron answered drily.

Harry couldn’t help grinning. “I can come back later,” he offered.

“I think you officially killed the mood, mate,” Ron answered, and Harry snorted.

Hermione came up to them, looking everywhere but at Harry. “I cleared up our books but I left our bags at the table so we can go directly back after lunch and study again.”

“Is that what you call it?” Harry asked, eliciting a bark of laughter from Ron.

Hermione sniffed and didn’t answer, striding off at a steady pace.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked at Ron who looked a bit sheepish and gave Harry a lopsided grin.

They both followed Hermione out of the library.

The trio walked on without talking until Harry broke the silence. “What was it you said to me at one point, Hermione? Oh, yes; ‘H _onestly, Harry, in the library_?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffed and Harry laughed.

As they sat at the Gryffindor table, plates loaded, Harry found that he felt a lot better – even if it was almost certainly only momentarily – and was actually able to enjoy his food.

*

“He’s smiling,” Draco said from his spot at the Slytherin table.

He had placed himself strategically next to Pansy and directly across from Blaise.

Blaise being somewhat broader than Draco, made it possible for Draco to remain (nearly) completely hidden from Harry’s view, while still being able to see him (some of him at least), thus giving Draco the opportunity to observe him from a distance. Should he wish it.

Pansy had implied that Draco was spying on Harry, as Draco had discretely rearranged them to the proper position before lunch. Draco had stabbed her in the arm with a fork.

“So?” Blaise said, turning to look.

“Don’t turn around, idiot,” Draco hissed.

Blaise refrained from it. “So?” he asked again.

“How dare he?” Draco asked. “He’s supposed to be suffering. That –“ he gestured towards the Gryffindor table where Harry was currently laughing – yes, _laughing_ – at something, “- is not suffering. I didn’t have fun last week when he wasn’t talking to me, so he shouldn’t have fun now! That’s just insulting.”

Draco leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling.

“Well, are you going to do something about it then or are you just going to sit here and wallow in your own misery?” Blaise asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes and directed his attention to another Gryffindor sitting a few spaces down from Harry.

Pansy followed the direction of his gaze. “Don’t be too mean to her,” she said as she saw Brown’s face split in a big smile as she noticed Draco looking at her.

Draco looked at Pansy, frowning. “What do you care?”

“I don’t,” Pansy said and shrugged. “It just seems like something someone ought to say in situations such as these.”

“Well,” Blaise interjected. “I say just go ahead and be as mean as you like. The meaner you are, the more consolation she will need, and _I_ – good self-sacrificing friend that I am – will selflessly volunteer to be there for her when you break her poor innocent Gryffindor heart.”

“I hear it’s not so innocent,” Pansy said, still looking at the tit-squeezing, eyelash-batting blonde.

“All the better,” Blaise answered.

“You sure you can handle being alone with her, Draco?” Pansy asked and winked at him.

He knew she was really just joking but recalled that he _had_ at one point given it thought whether it would be wise to be alone in a room with Brown and a bed.

Draco looked at his watch. “If I’m not back in the common room in… Let’s say half an hour, come look for me, yeah? Half an hour _tops_.”

“Absolutely, darling,” Pansy said and nodded.

Blaise turned to finally look at the Gryffindor table and he and Pansy followed Draco with their eyes as he moved across the Great Hall.

He made sure to walk towards Harry’s seat and make brief eye contact, causing Harry’s eyes to widen hopefully.

“Draco, I –“ Harry said as Draco neared his seat, but Draco pointedly ignored him as he walked on by, stopping next to where Brown was sitting.

“Hello Lavender,” he said, using a honeyed voice he knew many girls found seductive, especially combined with his _‘I-want-you’_ -smile.

“Hi, Dray-Dray,” she answered and batted her eyelashes. Again. She let a hand run through her hair and twirled a strand around a finger seductively.

“Yes, we’ll discuss that name later,” Draco said drily, not willing to let it slide but also not willing to let his annoyance show. Much. “I was sitting watching you and it just occurred to me that I never did get to see your beauty product collection,” he continued in the same low, seductive voice, running his index finger along her jaw.

Brown’s breath hitched and her smile widened as she stood. Draco took her hand and didn’t let go as they left the Gryffindor table to go to the common room. Although it was extremely difficult, and he had to squeeze Brown’s hand very hard in order to succeed, he made sure not to turn around to look at Harry.

Their way back to the common room was made awkward by the fact that Draco tried to walk as slowly as possible and Brown tried to walk as fast as possible, not unlike a tug of war. And that girl could tug. Which caused them to get to the common room, and the Gryffindor girls’ dorm much quicker than Draco had planned on.

As soon as they were inside the door Lavender immediately turned to face Draco and threw her arms around his neck as she latched on to his lips and walked forwards, causing Draco to involuntarily move backwards until the back of his knees were pressed up against her bed.

He finally managed to dislodge her arms from around his neck and lean back far enough that her lips couldn’t reach his.

“Wait,” he said, slightly out of breath, and Brown opened her eyes and looked at him dreamily.

“Yes?”

“I thought I was going to see your beauty product collection,” he continued lamely, trying to avoid too much physical interaction.

“You can see it after,” Brown said in that husky smoker’s voice she had used before, and pushed him hard with both hands, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed.

Draco lay paralysed. He silently cursed himself for keeping his wand in his back-pocket as he struggled to get off the bed. It was made damn near impossible due to the backs of his knees still being trapped between the bed and Brown’s legs. The angle of his legs and Brown’s somehow made it impossible for him to simply arch his back and reach for his back-pocket.

Brown watched Draco almost hungrily as she stood looming over him, unbuttoning her blouse. She reminded Draco of a cat of sorts – possibly a lioness – as she considered him and began crawling onto the bed to straddle him.

Draco finally got a hold of himself as he felt the pressure coming off his legs, and he managed to arch his back in search of his wand. It wasn’t there and he vaguely recalled an image of himself putting it down next to his plate at lunch.

“Get off me right this instant, woman,” he demanded, nudging at her hips, not wanting to be too rough with her. She was rather delicate in her build.

“Don’t be nervous, Dray-Dray,” she said in a sweet reassuring voice as she sat down on top of him.

“I am warning you, Brown; get off now or I shall have to remove you,” Draco warned, pointing his index finger at her.

She took hold of his hand and sucked his finger into her mouth, twirling her tongue around it as she looked him in the eyes, pupils dilated and a hungry look on her face. She shook off her blouse and made no movement to indicate that she planned on following his instructions.

Brown was a relatively small and delicate person, so Draco took hold of her hips with the intention of removing her by simply lifting her off him.

Brown, it turned out, was also very strong. She manoeuvred her arms around Draco, leaning down and pinning his upper body to the bed and his arms to his sides, as she somehow locked her arms around Draco’s back despite him lying _on_ his back on the bed.

She then squeezed her thighs firmly around his hips and thighs and somehow managed to lodge her feet under his thighs.

He was effectively trapped.

Draco recalled a situation with Harry where Harry had called him freakishly strong for someone so slender. Apparently Harry had never come across the strength of Lavender Brown. _She_ was _freakishly_ strong.

He was just about to call for help when she covered his lips with hers yet again and all he could do was make little muffled sounds into her mouth and wriggle helplessly on the bed to try kicking her off.

Draco, however, quickly decided against that cause of action; Brown was strategically positioned on top of him and even though he wasn’t even remotely interested in her and she, by the way, wasn’t really his type at all, he was still a healthy teenage boy with all the bodily reactions that came with that particular ailment.

He felt his lower regions stir inconveniently and tried with all his might to will it not to, as to not encourage Brown further. However, Draco found; a teenage prick, with a mind of its own and exposed to continued grinding, no matter what the source, is not easily discouraged, and he, to his horror, felt his cock harden further, making Brown moan lightly into his mouth.

At last Brown let go of his arms to sit up and arch her back seductively and run her hands through her hair as she continued to dry-hump him.

She had slightly curly hair that looked healthy with a nice shine to it, her skin was unblemished and smooth, her stomach was flat and slightly toned and her breasts were big but not overly so. Draco could see why most men would find her attractive and might consider themselves very lucky to be in his position.

Draco did _not_ consider himself lucky. His heart was beating fast with increasing panic.

When Brown for just the briefest of moments lifted her arse to stand on her knees over Draco instead of sitting on him, he immediately took advantage of the situation. His arms and upper body were free, and her weight was momentarily off his thighs. Draco managed with great effort to turn around on the bed, so he was now lying on his stomach.

His plan was to just wriggle out from under her and get the fuck out before she would even realise what had happened.

However, he had grossly underestimated Brown’s thigh muscles as she did not fall off as he tried to claw his way out from under her, pulling desperately at the covers and sheet. She merely gave a surprised yelp and squeezed her legs around him tighter.

Brown bent over so she was lying on his back and whispered in his ear. “Roll over, Dray-Dray.” Then she nibbled his earlobe.

“I need to stand up,” Draco said with hysteria audible in his voice. She didn’t move. “I – I like it better standing up,” he continued.

Fortunately Brown got off him and let him get off the bed and stand up straight on the floor. He stood panting, trying to gather his wits. After a couple of moments he dared a look at Brown. She gave him what he thought was supposed to be a smouldering look. Then she took him completely by surprise as she performed an impressive jump, latching on to him; arms around his neck and legs locked on his back.

Draco cursed himself for allowing her to get an even firmer grip on him.

He once again tried desperately to shake off the insistent girl. At that moment caught sight of himself in a body sized mirror attached to the wall next to the door, at the foot of Brown’s bed.

Had it been anybody else, he would have laughed: He was running around in circles, arms flailing, with Brown still effectively fastened to his body, trying to shake her off, and he got the distinct image of himself as a headless chicken running around aimlessly.

Draco went back to pushing at her shoulders but it was with very limited effect. He held on to a tiny hope that she would tire out and get exhausted before he did. However, since Draco was the one doing all the exercise, he didn’t see that happening.

At long last Brown dove up for air. She leaned back, still clenching her thighs firmly around his waist and quickly unbuckled his belt.

Draco seized the opportunity to shriek loudly. A shriek wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for, but apparently it was what he was capable of at that moment. Almost immediately a loud knock was heard from the door, and Draco saw his rescue in the form of Pansy’s head poking in.

Draco caught the tiny movement Pansy made with her wand and sighed with relief as Brown exclaimed a loud _‘ow’_ and grabbed for her arse. The surprise of Pansy’s stinging hex caused her to loosen her grip on Draco substantially and he pushed firmly at her upper body, finally dislodging her completely and letting her fall to the floor with a loud thud. He didn’t even feel guilty as she exclaimed another loud _‘ow’_.

“Oh dear, did you sprain a muscle?” Pansy asked with mock concern as Brown sat on the floor, rubbing her buttocks, both because of the stinging hex and the fall. Pansy handed Draco his wand, which she had picked up at lunch and he clung to it with relief.

“What is it Pansy?” Draco asked, trying to keep his voice level and not reveal that he had almost very nearly panicked.

Draco was certain he saw her lips quirk up and imagined he must be quite a sight; shirt wrinkled and partly undone and his belt undone (and when had _that_ happened?). Adding to that his hair was tousled and messy and he was sporting love bites everywhere.

“There is a very serious emergency that we desperately need your help for right this instant,” she said.

“An emergency?” Brown the gossip asked curiously.

“Yes,” Pansy said calmly. “The situation is dire, indeed.”

“Oh dear,” Brown exclaimed, unconsciously rubbing her hands in exitement. “What is it?” She looked at Pansy questioningly.

Pansy didn’t spare her a glance. “Vince hexed Greg’s and his own bits off. We need you to help identify the pieces,” she told Draco level-faced.

“That _is_ a dire situation. I’d better come along, then.”

And on that note, he stalked quickly out of the room, heading for his own dorm without looking back and without stopping to bring his appearance in order.

Few minutes later he was joined in his dorm by Pansy. Draco was sat on his bed, resting against the headboard, eyes closed and trying to will his heart to stop pounding. Pansy sat down next to him.

“So…” she said. “That was touch and go.”

“She’s a fucking nightmare,” Draco answered.

“How long do you plan on suffering her company?”

“As short a period as possible.” Draco reached up and cupped his neck with both hands. “Ugh, I have a feeling I’m marked.”

Pansy snickered. “You could say that.” She pulled out her wand and ridded Draco of the considerable amount of hickeys. “How do you plan on determining the length of that short period?” She looked at him curiously.

Draco sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t really know.”

“But you _do_ intend to get back together with Potter, right.”

There was a pause as Draco contemplated what both he and Pansy already knew. “Yes.”

“Good,” Pansy said as she leaned back on the headboard as well and closed her eyes. “I suggest you find out what it is that you want from him then.”

“I guess you’re right,” Draco answered with a sigh before he lay down with his head in her lap. “Do my hair.”

Pansy snorted but conceded. “Only because it’s soft and shiny and I’m a very good friend.”

“That you are.” Draco settled in and enjoyed Pansy’s strokes. Not as much as Harry’s, though. He really ought to find out exactly what it was he wanted.

*

Harry was walking out of his dorm, having retrieved an assignment for Hermione to proofread, when Draco with impressive speed ran across the common room from the Gryffindor girls’ dorm to his own dorm. His belt was unbuckled, his shirt partly undone, and his hair looked newly shagged. He had what looked like love bites all the way up and down his neck and even some on his cheeks and one on his forehead.

He stood for a while, contemplating if it was okay for him to think that Draco might have had sex with Lavender. He felt as if he had lost the ability to think for himself and scanned the room for someone he knew would be able to do it for him. Then he walked to the desk where Hermione and Ron were sitting doing their homework.

“Hermione, I need your help.” Harry stood next to Hermione, holding on to himself in a sort of half self-hug and bobbing from one foot to the other.

She raised her eyes from the book she was currently reading and looked at him, her eyes resting at his bobbing feet. “You look like you need to pee.”

“You’re not helping him pee, Hermione,” Ron butted in sharply, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I don’t need to pee,” Harry said. “Actually, could we move this to my bed or Ron’s?”

Both Hermione and Ron looked at him in surprise. “But we just did a session yesterday,” Hermione said. “What could possibly need solving now that didn’t need it yesterday?”

“I don’t need a session,” Harry said. “Could we just…” he beckoned at them and they followed him obligingly to the Gryffindor boys’ dorm and onto Harry’s bed.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” Hermione asked when they were settled.

“I am confused,” Harry admitted, frowning. Then he looked at both of them expectantly.

“You’re going to have to give us something more to work on, mate,” Ron said.

“It’s about Draco.” They both nodded. “And Lavender.” They both nodded again. “Well you saw how he just came running out of your dorm.” Both Ron and Hermione nodded again, and Harry continued. “With his clothes all rumpled and belt buckle open and love bites up and down his neck. And on his cheeks and on his forehead. How on earth does one manage that?” he added pensively.

“I imagine it’s doable if you suck hard enough,” Ron said.

“That’s completely beside the point,” Harry chastised Ron. He worried his lip and rubbed his nose. Then he scratched his hair. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“You’re wondering if it’s okay that you wonder if they slept together, right?” Hermione asked.

Ron looked at her in surprise. “Why would that not be okay?” he asked.

Hermione sighed. “Because, Ronald, we just had a long conversation yesterday where we told Harry he shouldn’t just have trusted his eyes and shouldn’t just have believed what he saw, and that he should have given Draco the benefit of the doubt because he was supposed to trust him.”

“So?” Ron asked, frowning.

“So, now Harry thinks that if he wonders if Draco slept with Lavender, we will think that he doesn’t trust Draco. Harry is also concerned that it really _does_ mean that he doesn’t trust Draco, because thinking Draco slept with someone else was what started this whole mess to begin with. He is also afraid that Draco will somehow find out that Harry thought he slept with Lavender and be even more upset with him. He even feels guilty thinking about it.” Hermione gestured towards Harry at the end of her rant. “Right, Harry?”

Ron just looked at Harry questioningly, and Harry nodded, somewhat in awe.

“That’s exactly it, Hermione,” he said, relieved that she had been able to explain it so accurately and in so few words. “So what do I do now?”

“It’s okay to wonder if they slept together, Harry,” Hermione said, reaching out to pat his knee consolingly. “In this case he hasn’t attempted to talk to you about it. Not that he has a reason to. But he hasn’t done anything to indicate that he didn’t sleep with her, so you are perfectly in your right to believe that he has.”

“Thanks a lot, Hermione,” Harry snapped. “Way to lighten the mood.”

“I didn’t say I think he _did_ sleep with her,” Hermione said. “I merely pointed out that it doesn’t show mistrust to wonder if he did.”

Harry worried his lip. “I do wonder if he did.”

“If it helps, I don’t think he did,” Hermione said.

“See, that’s not helpful at all, either, Hermione,” Harry whined. “Now I feel bad for wondering if he did when you just sit there all certainly and say that you think he didn’t.”

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “If you don’t want my advice I certainly won’t force it on you,” she snapped.

“Sorry,” Harry said, looking down.

Ron looked from one to the other. “This is making less and less sense.”

“Listen, Harry, I only base that on the things Lavender has talked about yesterday evening when we were getting ready for bed and then this morning. She is as much a gossip about her own sex life that she is about everybody else’s, and she was complaining that Draco has been very reluctant to be alone with her, even when an opportunity presented itself. And Lavender is a _very_ sexual person. She usually gets what she wants when she wants it. And believe me; she wants Draco.”

Harry gawked at her. “You’re not being helpful at all today.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said exasperatedly, throwing out her arms in defeat. “I don’t know what to say. I already told you it’s okay to wonder if he did it. I also told you I don’t think he did and I don’t think he wants to. I’m entitled to an opinion, too, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just scared that he might really like her,” Harry said in a small voice.

Hermione huffed. “Oh don’t be ridiculous. Of course he’s not with Lavender because he likes her,” she said firmly, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes widened immediately after, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Hermione!” Both Ron and Harry said.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Harry said, and she bit her lip and looked down shamefully.

“But accurate, nonetheless,” Ron said.

“You really think?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Besides, you didn’t overhear the thumping noises – not _that_ kind of thumping-“ he added when Harry opened his mouth to speak, “- coming from the dorm. It sounded more like someone was having a fight in there. Or keeping some sort of large animal.”

Harry felt somewhat reassured by Ron’s explanation.

“And then there was a shriek of some sort,” Ron continued, “and then Parkinson looked at her watch and said ‘ _shit’_ and practically _ran_ to the Gryffindor girls’ dorm. She looked slightly panicked.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Hermione said curiously.

“That’s because you had your nose buried in a book, love,” Ron said and kissed her nose. “I, on the other hand, was staring into space waiting for inspiration to strike.”

Hermione tried to look at Ron with a stern look, but didn’t manage entirely and looked slightly amused through her frown.

Harry looked at his friends fondly and nodded to himself as he decided to choose to believe that Draco didn’t sleep with Lavender _or_ Parkinson.

He hoped to god that all this mess would soon be over. It was fucking confusing manoeuvring in.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE TO CHAPTER 17: Hey Guys. I added a couple of scenes to this chapter - just as pass-time for you while I finish chapter 18. I swear; It's all in my head - it just frickin' won't come out through my fingers. Also, not having English as my spoken language doesn't exactly help. Plus work's a bitch at the moment. So; excuses made, I hope you're still with me...

“Get. Rid of her,” Pansy hissed at Draco as she sat down in front of him at breakfast Monday morning.

“Is something the matter, Pansy?” Draco asked without looking up from administering the right amount of cream to his coffee.

Next to him Blaise started laughing loudly and Draco looked up. What he saw was… unexpected. Pansy was sitting across from him, slightly out of breath, her hair tousled and her tie askew. Adding to that she had what looked like soft pink lipstick smeared from the corner of her mouth to her cheek, a smear of something black next to one eye and a rather large lock of blonde her clutched in her hand.

“What in the name of Merlin happened to you?” Blaise asked, trying to hold off his laugh.

Draco didn’t say anything. He had a fair idea what had happened to her.

“What happened was that _Draco’s girlfriend -_ ” (she emphasised the words) “- chose to show her gratefulness that she and I would now be _best friends –“_ (she emphasised those words as well) “- by _teaching me how to do my make up so I’d be able to hide that unfortunate skin tone_.” She used a shrill affected voice to say the last bit and flapped her hands in the air, still holding on to her trophy.

Blaise laughed harder.

“And to _teach me how to do my hair so I’ll be able to attract a nice boy_. _Or girl if that’s my thing,_ ” she continued, using the same shrill voice.

Despite the possible consequences Draco couldn’t stifle the snicker that escaped him.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” Pansy asked with an ominous tone to her voice. Draco shook his head while Blaise nodded. “She also tried to do my hair. You know, because _it looks so unhappy_.”

“And is that the result of those efforts?” Blaise asked, gesturing towards her face and hair.

Pansy huffed. “This is the result of someone with hands as fast as hummingbirds trying to meddle with my looks.”

“And that?” Blaise asked, nodding at the rather impressive strand of hair in her hand.

“Is another result of those efforts.”

“What did you do to her?” Draco asked curiously.

“I just pulled her hair and ran. I can’t figure out if I should be embarrassed that she managed to corner me and get as far as she got before I managed to escape, or proud of this.” She raised her hand with the lock of hair.

“You should definitely be proud of the hair,” Draco said. “That girl is fast as a snitch and strong as a dragon.”

As on cue Brown entered the Great Hall along with a Patil twin. They both shot murderous glances in the direction of Pansy who was sitting with her back to them. Brown had put her hair up in a purposefully messy bun. Patil walked towards the Gryffindor table but Brown walked towards the Slytherins until she stood behind Pansy. Then she reached out and snatched the lock of hair.

“I’ll just take this back, thank you.”

“Hey,” Pansy said indignantly, “that’s _my_ hair.”

“I think you’ll find that _your_ hair is on top of your head, looking just as sad and dull as ever. Let me know if you change your mind and decide to give pretty a go. See you later, Dray-Dray.” She blew Draco a kiss before she turned and left.

“Ooh, she’s feisty that one,” Blaise said before he laughed loudly again. Then he shrieked loudly as Pansy stabbed his hand with a fork.

Pansy sneered at Draco. “Get rid of her,” she repeated in a low voice before she started rubbing at the make up with a napkin.

“Why don’t you just vanish it magically?” Blaise asked curiously, rubbing his injured hand.

Pansy gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. “Merlin’s tits, Blaise, why did I not think of that earlier?” she said sarcastically and glared at him. Then she sighed. “It’s spell proof.”

“Spell proof?” Blaise repeated.

“Yes. Apparently water proof isn’t enough. It has to be spell proof as well.”

Blaise frowned. “But how does _she_ get it off? Do you think she sleeps with it on?”

“She has created her own concoction, which she applies to a flannel before bed and then rubs her face with until it disappears,” Draco explained. “The makeup, not the face.”

Pansy snorted. “I should be so lucky,” she muttered as she kept scrubbing.

“I’ve had a very thorough explanation on beauty products. Several times,” Draco continued.

“Can you get me some?” Pansy asked, still rubbing at the lipstick that just wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck no,” Draco said incredulously. “I am _not_ going into that room again. I’m also not asking any favours. Who knows what she’d have me do.” He shivered – and it wasn’t entirely for theatrics.

“You should have just let her do it, Pansy,” Blaise told her and Pansy narrowed her eyes as she glared at him. Blaise threw out his hands. “What? She’s a very pretty girl. She must know what she’s doing. And if you’d let her do it you wouldn’t be in your current predicament. Besides, your hair does look a bit dull.”

At the end of Blaise’s rant Pansy was looking murderous. Blaise didn’t seem to notice, though, or perhaps he didn’t care. Instead he looked across the Great Hall, searching out Brown and winking at her.

“Try bacon fat or butter, Pansy,” Draco said, suddenly remembering snippets of a one-sided conversation with Brown.

“I’m not rubbing my face with food products,” Pansy said, looking at him with disgust. She was still rubbing at the lipstick smear without much effect. “Why would you even suggest that?”

“I just remembered her saying something about grease.”

“I relation to this topic?” Pansy asked.

“Possibly.” Draco nodded.

Not particularly relishing having to rub her face with grease, but also seeing no other way out the situation, Pansy looked around her before she grabbed a couple of pieces of bacon and a large blob of butter and folded a napkin around it. With another glare at Draco she hurried out of the Great Hall.

 

Throughout the day Harry continued to beg Draco’s forgiveness as he had done during the weekend to the point where it got annoying. Draco still continued to ignore Harry, though, not wanting to give in out of sheer annoyance.

 

Tuesday passed in much the same way with Harry begging to the point of annoyance and Brown’s constant need to snog making Draco want to gag. He really ought to get rid of her.

Pansy had greeted him with the same demand at the breakfast table as yesterday. This time, apparently, Brown had tried to explain to Pansy all the things she did wrong in her pursuit of a man – or woman – as she tried to walk with her to breakfast. Brown had tried to intertwine their arms like ‘real besties’ but had wisely backed off when Pansy told her to let go or she’d snap it off.

Draco figured it would probably be to everybody's safety and general mental health to break it off. So back in the common room, having finished Charms and thus the lessons of the day, he told her to kindly fuck off and get lost.

Five minutes later he found himself and Brown snogging on the sofa as usual. Draco had no idea how he got from ‘get lost’ to there.

Later in the evening Brown was sitting next to him on the sofa, for once not snogging him but still glued to his arm and nuzzling his hair in a horribly annoying and imposing sort of way. Occasionally he batted her hand away, but it always found its way back up there.

At one point someone cast a shadow on Draco’s book. He looked up to tell whoever it was to fuck off. When he saw who it was he made sure to look as if he couldn’t care two straws about it.

“Please talk to me.”

Draco pretended to pretend to consider the request. Truth was, he _was_ considering it, only it wouldn’t do to let Harry know that. “Piss off, Potter,” he said in the end.

“Please,” Harry repeated.

“Anything else?” Draco asked and Harry turned and left without comment.

“Well that was rude,” Brown said from next to him.

“Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me alone,” Draco mumbled as he went back to reading his book.

Brown leaned in and said in that husky smoker’s voice Draco had come to know quite well over the days, “Do you want to join me?”

“Merlin you’re annoying,” Draco snapped at her as he tried to concentrate on his book again.

“Do you like it?” Brown asked, licking into his ear.

He saw that as his cue to get up and retreat to his dorm for the night while wiping his ear furiously. He didn’t say good night, hoping that Brown would be so pissed off about his insulting behaviour that she would break it off herself. Or take the hint. But who was he kidding? He knew she wouldn’t.

Draco barged into his dorm and threw himself down in the broad window sill. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled his face in a scowl. He just wanted to sit there in peace and brood.

He never should have taken on with that silly Brown-bint. That had been a mistake. Not that Draco was planning on admitting that to anybody anytime soon. Or ever.

She was like a leech, almost literally with all her sucking any visible part of his body. And no matter how poorly he treated her – she just kept on coming back.

Pansy’s amusement had been short-lived as Brown’s clingy behaviour continuingly prevented Draco from having any alone-time with his friends. And the advice and help she kept trying to force on Pansy meant that every time Brown opened her mouth, Pansy’s nostrils automatically started flaring and she disappeared into the Slytherin girls’ dorm, slamming the door behind her.

Blaise didn’t seem to have anything in particular against Brown. He just seemed to want to bed her.

As so many times before, his brooding was interrupted by Pansy.

He sighed as she sat down on his bed and looked at him.

“Don’t worry – I’m getting rid of her.”

“How?” Pansy asked. “By choking her with your tongue?”

Just then the door opened and Blaise hurried in, settling down on his own bed.

“Get rid of her, Draco,” he said.

Draco groaned. “What did she do now?”

“Nothing,” Blaise answered. “I want her.” He looked at Draco intensely as if to really stress how much he wanted her.

“You can have her,” Draco said exasperatedly while throwing out his hands in a way that he hoped signalled ‘why-haven’t-you-already’. He hoped Blaise wasn’t struck by some sort of misunderstood noble ‘I-won’t-screw-her-while-she’s-with-you-thing’.

“I know. I tried. She won’t do it.”

“But why?” Draco whined. “You’re a good looking young man and I get the impression she’s quite the man-eater and a rather shallow person.”

“Apparently she’s also a very moral person.”

“Pfft, Gryffindor,” Pansy said, shaking her head. It was clearly an insult.

“Yes,” Blaise agreed. “It’s a waste of excellent tits.”

“I said I’m trying, okay?” Draco spat. “I think she has selective hearing.”

“Why don’t you just get back together with Potter?” Pansy asked. “She can’t expect you to be with both of them at once.”

“I can’t.”

“But why, Draco?” Pansy positively whined. “Just forgive him and you can get back together and shag each other silly and that stupid cow will be out of my life.”

“I _know_ ,” Draco said and buried his head in his hands. “And I want to. It’s just… If I just forgive him I’ll feel like I lost, and then I won’t really mean it at all, and I’ll resent me and I’ll resent him and then it won’t matter anyway.”

“But he’s been begging for four days, Draco,” Pansy said.

“I don’t _want_ him to just _beg_ ,” Draco said.

“But what _do_ you want, then?” Pansy asked.

“I want him to _feel_ it. All the begging – it’s fine. I wanted that too, but I want him to _really_ feel it.”

“Don’t you think he does already?” Blaise asked.

“Not the way I want him to,” Draco said firmly and crossed his arms over his chest. “I want him to suffer. To feel hopeless; like there’s nothing left to do and to really, really regret that he ever mistrusted me.”

“Because that’s how _you_ felt, except for the mistrust,” Pansy stated and Draco nodded.

Blaise snorted. “Good luck accomplishing that.” At Draco’s frown he continued, “come on, Draco, Potter’s not smart enough to figure that out.”

“Well, he’ll have to.”

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re a nutter. Well, as long as you’re still getting rid of Brown.”

“Don’t worry,” Draco said. “I’m trying as hard as I can, but she has trouble hearing things that don’t suit her.”

“Just get it done,” she said sternly.

*

Harry had spent the rest of Sunday trying to get Draco to talk to him without success.

He also spent Monday begging, like Hermione had urged him to.

Draco spent Monday ignoring Harry, like Hermione had said he would.

Every time Harry ran into Draco – which he made sure to do a lot – he cornered him and begged to talk to him.

He made sure to sit next to Draco in DADA and risked the wrath of Snape by continuingly asking Draco to pleaseplease _please_ talk to him. By the end of the lesson he had lost forty points from Gryffindor for pestering another student and disturbing class. And he still hadn’t got to talk to Draco.

During Potions he was also standing directly next to Draco for obvious reasons and continued begging to the point where he even found it annoying himself. He stopped momentarily when Draco’s nostrils started flaring dangerously, but picked up again after class, trying to keep up with Draco who was hurrying down the hallway.

Nothing worked, and at the end of the day he had got absolutely nowhere.

He was laying on his bed, curtains drawn when he heard the door open and someone entering.

“I just feel sorry for him is all,” he heard Seamus say.

“Still,” Dean answered. “That’s no reason to try to hex Malfoy behind his back.”

“Well I didn’t do it, did I?” Seamus said. He sounded annoyed.

“Only because Ron tripped you. You’re lucky Malfoy didn’t see you – he would have hexed you into oblivion.”

“Pff,” was Seamus’ answer.

Harry felt a rush of fondness for his fellow Gryffindor at the thought that he would have hexed Draco for upsetting Harry, although he had to agree with Dean that it would have been a low-blow.

“So,” Seamus said, “Do you think he’s completely gay or what?” Harry couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the question, even though Seamus couldn’t see it.

“Dunno,” Dean answered. “Could be bi.”

“Yeah… I wonder what it’s like, taking it up the arse. Doesn’t seem right to have something going in there.”

“Dunno,” Dean answered again.

“It’s not that I’m homophobic or anything,” Seamus continued to Harry’s relief, “I just find it odd that it could be good. Do you think it’s only good for gay people?”

“I don’t think so,” Dean said. “Some muggles buy toys to put up there – gay _and_ straight. Some girls too. Don’t know if they have that sort of thing in the wizarding world.”

Harry hadn’t known that and wondered how Dean did. But then again, there were lots of things muggle that Harry didn’t know.

“How do you know that?” Seamus asked.

“I caught my cousin using one once, during the summer holiday between 2nd and 3rd year. God, that was awkward. He went on to show me his collection, explaining all sorts of things, and all I wanted was to run out and bang my head against the wall hard enough to forget the whole thing.”

“What sorts of toys are there?” Seamus asked.

“A lot of different things I think. My cousin showed me this long string with beads on it. Said you had to put the whole thing up there. I tell you, it was like ten inches long.” Dean made a shuddering sound.

“How is that even possible?” Seamus asked.

“I have absolutely no idea and no intention of finding out,” Dean answered. “He also had different sizes of butt plugs – and before you as; yes: It _is_ what it sounds like. It was like these rubber pyramids with a flanged end and you had to put them up there, and the end would prevent it from getting stuck. Some of them looked menacing.”

“Wow…” Seamus answered, and Harry silently concurred. “And he’s straight?”

“As an arrow. He said there’s this spot up blokes’ arses that feels really good when you touch it. Why are you so interested, anyway?” Dean asked. Harry had been wondering the same thing.

“I’m not _interested_ ,” Seamus answered. “I’m _curious_.”

“Right…” Dean said.

There was silence for a while, until Seamus spoke. “So…” he said. “Do you have any… things?”

“ _No_ ,” Dean answered.

“Should we… Should we get one?”

Silence. Harry could imagine Dean gaping at Seamus.

“Together?” Dean asked eventually, his voice a bit more high-pitched than usual. “I don’t want to be gay with you. I don’t want to be gay with anybody.”

Seamus sighed. “Of course not, idiot. I mean in the name of science.”

“Right…” Dean said, not sounding convinced.

“Hey,” Seamus said. “I have my eyes set on that blond Hufflepuff with one blue eye and one brown.”

“She’s a 5th year, Seamus,” Dean answered.

“Exactly, so I have to have something to occupy me while I wait. And if there’s a chance there’s a magic spot up the arse I think it would be grand to find it and take advantage of nature’s gifts.”

“I guess that’s a way of looking at it,” Dean said hesitantly. “If it’s really there.”

“Only one way to find out,” Seamus said.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

“So… How should we get it?”

“Just to be clear,” Dean said, “we’re not getting _it_ – we’re getting _them_.”

“Right of course,” Seamus answered.

“I guess I could write my cousin and ask him to get them. Perhaps.”

“Get one for me, too,” Harry said loud enough for them to hear clearly through the drapes. As he was currently without boyfriend he thought he might as well find some other means of satisfaction until he and Draco made up. Which they would. Soon. Tomorrow, actually. So really, one of those things wouldn’t be necessary at all. But it would be fun to have in any case, so…

“Harry?” Seamus asked in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “And to answer your question, I’m bi. But at the moment I’m more into cock. Okay?”

“Okay,” Seamus squeaked.

“I’ll get you one, too, Harry,” Dean said.

“Thanks,” Harry answered. He turned around and went to sleep.

 

Most of Tuesday was spent much the same way as Monday (save the interesting conversation between Dean and Seamus), and Harry feared that he would at some point have to literally get down on his knees and beg. And most likely in a public place. And even though he really, really, really wanted to talk to Draco, that was _not_ a thought he relished.

To top it off, Lavender was practically glued to Draco’s lips, arm, leg, lap or whichever body part was within reach. Their constant snogging made Harry want to gag.

Tuesday evening on his way back from the library Harry was cornered by Parkinson who pushed him up against the wall inside the portrait hole, just as he stepped in.

“This is _all_. _Your_. _Fault_ ,” she hissed at him before letting him go and disappearing out of the common room. She looked livid.

Harry was well aware that it _was_ , indeed, his fault. He just had no idea how to fix it, and he thought with regret, not for the first time, that it was a shame all the time turners had been destroyed in the ministry a year and a half ago.

When Harry walked in a bit further he was greeted by the sight of Draco reading on a sofa with Lavender glued to his side and nuzzling his hair. The hair that smelled of citrus and Draco. The hair that was _Harry’s_ to nuzzle and sniff.

Harry breathed in deeply through his nose as he contemplated what to do. He decided to give it one more shot tonight, so he moved to stand directly in front of Draco, making sure to cast a shadow over his book to disturb his reading.

Draco looked up, clearly annoyed with whoever had dared interrupt his reading. When he saw Harry standing there his expression visibly changed to a mask of indifference. Why couldn’t the bastard just shout at him? Then Harry could apologise, Draco could shout some more, Harry would apologise again and they would have make-up sex. Easy peasy. Nothing to it. Over and done with.

“What do you want, Potter? You’re blocking my light.”

“Please talk to me.”

Draco merely stared at him. “Piss off, Potter,” he said after a couple of moments’ silence. After a few more moments’ silence he added, “Anything else?”

Harry wanted to scream. He _was_ screaming. On the inside. On the outside he just looked at Draco blankly, turned around and walked to his dorm, slamming the door behind him.

When he heard Ron’s voice calling his name softly some time later, he pretended to be asleep, and Ron left the dorm.

After a while he heard the door open and close again.

Someone cleared their throat. Dean, possibly. “My cousin sent the items. They should be here soon. He had to go through my mother, because obviously he doesn’t know how to send owl post. He promised he’d disguise the… items so no one would be able to see what it is. So… Just to let you know. If you’re awake. If not, I’ve just been having a conversation with a bed and its drapes. Anyway, good night.”

“Night,” Harry answered as Dean left.

 

By breakfast Wednesday Harry had tried to beg forgiveness from Draco several times that day already. Still, nothing had worked and in the end Harry resorted to make his way the Great Hall for breakfast and helping himself to an obscene amount of eggs, bacon, sausages, beans and buttered toast all mixed together in one big heap.

Hermione eyed his plate with poorly concealed disgust as she sat down in front of him, obstructing his view of Draco. She was about to say something when the owls swooped into the hall with letters for the students and staff.

The regal looking owl that had carried the written apology from Mrs. Malfoy a little over a week ago dove down in front of Harry and held out its leg. He treated the owl to some bacon and untied the letter. Harry had felt compelled to write to inform Draco’s mother that Draco had turned out to be innocent after all – even though Draco would most likely write her himself as well. He most likely had already.

Harry hadn’t necessarily expected an answer, though.

He didn’t open the letter at the breakfast table, not wanting to expose it to curious eyes, and waited till he got back to the common room for their free period. There he slumped down in an armchair and opened his letter.

 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Thank you for your letter._

_It was good of you to inform me that my son is not an ‘evil mastermind’, as you put it, after all. I am sad that in the light of these new revelations you have yet to recover your friendship. I do hope that the two of you will in time mend what has been broken between you._

_Mrs. Weasley informs me that you will not be joining the Weasleys for Christmas and plan to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. I cannot bear the thought of you celebrating Christmas at Hogwarts because your own hospitality towards Draco and me hinders you staying at your own residence. I therefore sincerely encourage you to join Draco and me for the duration of the holidays. It is, after all, your house._

_Most sincerely,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

 

Harry passed the letter to Ron and Hermione who had been watching him curiously, while pretending not to, as he read it.

“What are you going to answer?” Hermione asked when she had finished reading.

“No, obviously,” Harry answered.

“Why?” Ron asked. “You’re not going to the Burrow.”

“ _Why_?” Harry looked at him incredulously. “I don’t intend to spend Christmas with someone who can’t stand the sight of me. I’d rather be alone.”

“You need to at least consider it before you answer, Harry,” Hermione told him.

“No way! I’m not going to impose myself on Draco and his mother’s Christmas celebration. It’s their first Christmas together without his father. And his last two Christmases were spent with a madman and his mad pack of sycophants in the house.”

“I guess that’s bound to put a damper on the festivities,” Ron added cleverly, causing Harry to look at him as if he were stupid.

“At least consider the offer until tonight, Harry,” Hermione said again.

Harry frowned but tucked the letter away in his pocket with the intention of replying later.

 

Throughout the day Harry tried the same approach he had used yesterday and the day before that, being to place himself strategically in class so he was within Draco’s hearing range and able to consistently try to talk to him. Without success. All he got was the silent treatment. Draco might as well have been hearing impaired, what with his complete lack of reaction to any approach Harry made.

The last class of the day was Herbology. Harry had been paired with Neville and had been unable to stand directly next to Draco. Instead he had made up stupid excuses to fetch various garden tools, seeds or plants that would require him to walk past Draco.

Neville hadn’t commented on it, even though it was painfully obvious what Harry was doing. Particularly since they didn’t need any of the things Harry fetched for them. Neville was still guilt ridden about having slept with Ginny. Harry didn’t care anymore and had told Neville as much, and he felt certain that in time they would be able to regain the friendship they had had before the whole thing blew up.

At the end of class Neville told Harry to just go along and let Neville put away the tools and whatever else Harry had seen fit to get, enabling Harry to hurry after Draco.

As they were exiting the greenhouse, Harry was close enough to quietly make another plea to Draco to listen to him. He surprised himself by practically shouting, _“You just hold it right there, mister,”_ placing his hand firmly on Draco’s shoulder and forcefully turning him around.

They looked at each other in surprise, before Draco’s face slipped into the familiar mask of indifference. Harry knew he had the opportunity to talk now, having momentarily baffled Draco. All he was able to say, however, was “Um…” Then he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

After what seemed like several minutes but was most likely not more than a few seconds, Draco yanked his arm from Harry’s grip, turned around and walked towards the castle at a quick pace.

“Smooth move, Potter,” Zabini said sarcastically as he walked past Harry. After a few paces he turned around, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Harry. “I suggest you up your game. Brown is driving Pansy mad, and I will have you know that a mad Pansy is not amusing to be around.”

Harry could easily imagine.

“Got any pointers?” he asked hopefully.

Zabini considered him blank faced. “No. I don’t know what he wants. I thought _you_ were the Draco Malfoy expert of this school.” He turned and walked towards the castle, leaving Harry to stand looking after him, frowning and in no way closer to a solution.

 

Back in the common room Harry, having put his books away and finished his homework for the next day, slumped down in an armchair in a corner of the common room where Hermione and Ron joined him, moving their own armchairs so they were all facing each other. Ron then cast a Muffliato around them.

“You do realise you’re both being ridiculous, right?” Hermione said as she pulled up her legs, making herself comfortable.

“What did _I_ do?” Ron asked, looking offended.

“Not you. Harry and Draco.”

“Oh, right,” Ron said, nodding. “That’s true.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry said, glaring at his friends. “What do you mean now?”

“I mean that he is acting ridiculous with this whole Lavender thing, and you’re starting to act very oddly about the whole forgiveness thing.”

“Am not,” Harry said, frowning.

“Well you’re certainly taking an interesting approach then,” Hermione said drily. “That or it was a hitherto unknown type of humble plea you made at the greenhouses.”

“That was a one-off. And even if I am there’s not really a lot I can do about him and Lavender, is there?”

“I realise that, Harry,” Hermione answered.

“Good. So don’t make it sound like it.”

Hermione sighed “Have you considered Mrs. Malfoy’s invitation?”

“I have,” Harry said. “I’ve written that I appreciate her offer very much but unfortunately I must decline. I just need to go to the owlery and get Hedwig.”

“Good,” Hermione said.

“But…” Harry said, just a tad confused. “I thought you wanted me to go.”

“Of course not, Harry,” Hermione said and looked at Harry as if he was stupid. “Why would I want you to ruin his Christmas?”

Harry cringed at her phrasing that suggested that being around Harry would ruin Draco’s Christmas. Even though that was what Harry had, in fact, suggested himself, and even if he knew it to be true.

“But why would you ask me to consider it, then?” he asked.

“Because,” Hermione explained, “if you had sent your reply right away it would have suggested to Mrs. Malfoy that you hadn’t taken the time to consider it. That would be plain rude.”

“I _could_ have just written a reply and then waited to post it or asked Hedwig to make a detour, you know.”

Hermione frowned at him. “But that would be lying, Harry.”

“Since when is lying – which, might I add, I don’t think it would be – to Draco’s mother something we’re concerned about?” Ron asked.

“Since Harry is trying to get him back. Honestly,” She rolled her eyes at him.

“I don’t get it,” Ron said, looking at her expectantly to explain.

“I’m with Ron,” Harry seconded.

Hermione sighed deeply. “If Harry sent his answer immediately after receiving the offer from Mrs. Malfoy it would be obvious to her that Harry had not considered her offer at all. That would be rude. If Harry sent the answer later but without even considering the pros and cons it would be more polite but an indirect lie, which would be just as rude.”

“Only if she found out,” Ron argued. “How would she find out? And even so, it’s minimal.”

“Again; I’m with Ron,” Harry said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and leaned forward in her chair. “Oh really? Because if Draco found out that you had been lying to his mother, Harry, I don’t think that would help you in your quest to achieve forgiveness.”

“How would he even find out?” Harry asked exasperatedly, throwing out his arms. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to go up to him and say ‘ _hey, Draco, guess what; I just lied to your mother_ ’. Besides, I think he would be all too happy to learn that I had turned down the offer. And why are we even having this discussion? It’s not like it’s relevant.”

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s the principle of it. And you’re the one who brought it up, Harry.”

Harry was about to tell her that he wouldn’t have brought it up if she hadn’t brought it up first, when Ron raised both his arms and covered Hermione’s mouth with one hand and Harry’s with the other.

“Enough, both of you; this is a ridiculous discussion,” he said. He looked from one to the other to make sure they would stay off the topic of lying to Draco’s mother and then let go of them.

Hermione cleared her throat. “So what did you write, Harry, if I may ask?” she asked politely.

Harry pulled forward his reply and read aloud. “ _Dear Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you very much for your offer to spend Christmas with you. However, I am afraid I must decline as I do not wish to impose upon your and Draco’s Christmas celebration._ ”

Hermione frowned. “It’s not very eloquent, is it? I mean, the phrasing is okay, I guess, but you don’t really offer much of an explanation, do you? Not one she wouldn’t be able to brush off immediately.”

Harry snatched the letter to Mrs. Malfoy from Hermione.

“It was difficult to write,” he confessed, looking at the parchment and frowning. “I couldn’t really write ‘ _Thank you but_ _I don’t want to spend Christmas with you because Draco hates me and doesn’t want my company and doesn’t want to have me around’_.”

“But the thing is, Harry,” Ron said, leaning forward in his chair. He _does_ want your company. He _does_ want to be around you. At least he would if he wasn’t such a stubborn git. If you would just sort this thing out _you’d_ be the one sitting on his lap, making doe eyes and sucking his tonsils.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked at Ron incredulously.

“Okay, maybe not,” Ron granted with a shrug. “But you would be the one jerking him off in the library and other inappropriate places.”

“You’re missing the bigger picture here, Ron,” Harry said. “I’m all _for_ solving this shit. I’m trying. _I’m_ not being stubborn. I _was_. I realise that. But _he’s_ the stubborn git right now and there’s nothing I can do about that fact. So kindly leave off explaining to me how everything would be better if I had just done this-or-that or if he would just do this-or-that.”

He looked over to where Draco was sitting in an armchair with Lavender draped over him with her tongue down his throat. Again. It reminded Harry very much of a similar situation in their 6th year. It was every bit as revolting to witness. And then some.

Ron wrinkled his nose, also watching the couple, looking slightly disgusted. “Did we look like that when I dated her?”

“You looked worse!” Hermione said firmly, glaring at Ron who blushed.

“I wonder if they’ve had sex yet,” Harry said absently.

“We already had this discussion once,” Hermione said.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “On Sunday. Today is Wednesday. Three days have passed. A lot of things can happen in three days I’ll have you know.”

“Okay, well I know they haven’t,” Hermione said.

“You sound very convinced,” Harry said questioningly.

“Lavender is still very talkative, and apparently he’s still avoiding being alone with her. Well, that’s the essence of it anyway. She’s trying very hard to analyse it into some deeper meaning that involves him being desperately in love with her, and being intimidated by her beauty and femininity and scared of his intense feelings for her.”

Harry couldn’t help a snicker.

“Nothing, and I mean _nothing_ has happened. Trust me; I’d know.” She smiled reassuringly at Harry, who felt somewhat better. It was good to have an ‘inside man’ to gather useful intel.

“In fact,” Hermione added, “from the things she’s telling, it sounds more like he’s trying to get rid of her. Sounds to me like that woman just won’t take a hint.”

“I think Hermione is right,” Ron said, nodding. “He said to her face that he finds her unappealing while kicking her out of her own dorm when we were questioning him and that was less than a week ago.”

“Why were you questioning him?” Harry asked suspiciously. “And when?”

“Oh, um…” Ron said, not quite looking Harry in the eye.

Hermione had begun fidgeting with her sleeve. “It was on Friday. In the afternoon. It’s why we decided to play Never Have I Ever.”

Harry felt something building in his stomach that he didn’t quite know how to word. “What did you question him about?” he asked calmly.

“About… about the thing with Ginny,” Hermione admitted.

“Alright,” Harry continued, still calmly. “And what did you find out?”

Ron sighed. “He told us he didn’t do it. Explained everything with the note and that he thought it was from Hermione.”

“And did you believe him?” Harry tried to keep his voice level.

“Yes,” Ron answered. Hermione was looking down, worrying her lip and fidgeting with her sleeve.

“And that was Friday,” Harry stated.

“Yes,” Ron answered again.

Harry stood up in a quick move. “ _Why the_ fuck _would you not tell me that?_ ”

Hermione looked up at him. “We weren’t sure you’d believe us. We thought it would be better to play that game.” She said in a small voice.

“ _But you didn’t know._ _I_ might _have believed you_ ,” Harry continued loudly, grateful for Ron’s Muffliato. “ _It might have prevented me from making him elaborate all the things he_ didn’t _do with her. I don’t know if you noticed but that wasn’t helpful in regards to forgiveness and all_.”

“Harry, _please_ ,” Hermione said. Her eyes were glassy.

“What you have to understand, mate,” Ron said, still sitting down and looking up at Harry calmly, “is that you were acting very irrationally all of last week. There was no getting through to you. So yeah, perhaps we should have told you. Perhaps you would have believed it but most likely you wouldn’t have. Most likely you’d have said _‘of course that’s what he would tell you, the bastard liar.’_  So we chose not to. And in any case there’s not much we can do about it now.”

Harry was torn between shouting some more, kicking something, throttling his friends or, for some reason, start laughing.

He decided against shouting, because he didn’t really know what to shout.

Remembering his little outburst in Hogsmeade in the weekend he also decided against kicking something.

Throttling his friends might be the most satisfying course of action but he didn’t particularly relish a howler from Mrs. Weasley accusing him of ruining their Christmas as well by murdering her son and his girlfriend.

So he tried to go with the last course of action and start laughing. However, when he tried only a wheeze of some sort came out. His facial expression also wasn’t playing along and he had a feeling that instead of a laughing man he might look like a choking man.

He straightened his back and contemplated his friends; Hermione who was looking mortified and sorry, and Ron who was looking defiant and also a little bit sorry. They also both looked a little worried about the weird wheeze that escaped him.

Instead of figuring out something else to do with himself Harry turned on his heel with the intention of walking to his dorm.

On his way he passed Draco and Lavender on the sofa. He stopped in front of them. After having stood there for quite some time without any reaction he nudged Draco’s foot with his. Draco moved his foot away a little.

Well, at least that’s a reaction, Harry thought.

What he intended was to nudge at Draco’s foot again. What he did do was kick him very hard across the ankle, causing Draco to push Lavender off him forcefully and reach down to cup his molested foot while spewing obscenities at Harry.

Lavender who had managed to land on the sofa instead of the floor this time reached down to touch Draco’s foot, shrieking ‘oh Dray-Dray’.

“ _Don’t fucking touch it, you crazy cow,_ ” Draco shouted at her and she immediately moved to sit on the sofa, looking somewhat insulted.

“ _What the_ fuck _did you do that for_?” Draco shouted at Harry, cradling his ankle, when he was able to talk in whole sentences.

“I… I don’t know,” Harry said truthfully.

“You’re mad. Absolutely bonkers.”

_‘I know, I’m so sorry, please talk to me_ ,’ was what Harry _wanted_ to say – what he _should_ have said. What he _did_ say was, “I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be spending Christmas together.”

“No we won’t,” Draco said firmly, frowning. “I’ll be spending Christmas with my mother. At the house.”

‘ _Oh, okay, my mistake then,’_ Harry tried to will his brain to tell his mouth to say. “I know. So am I,” he said instead. To his horror he felt himself grin as Draco paled. “Your mother was kind enough to invite me since I’m not going to be spending Christmas with the Weasleys for obvious reasons. I’ve already written her to accept her offer.”

“You had better be lying, Potter,” Draco said menacingly.

_‘I am. I don’t want to ruin your holidays,’_ he thought. “Afraid not,” he said.

“I can’t believe you agreed to spend Christmas at the house,” Draco hissed.

_‘I’m sorry. I’m going to write to your mother to tell her I’m not going.’_ Inner Harry thought.

“I was invited,” Real Harry said calmly. “I thought it polite to accept the kind offer.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and leaned in. If Harry moved his head forward just a couple of inches… “You are going to un-invite yourself. Write to my mother and tell her you changed your mind,” he said angrily.

_‘Okay,’_ inner Harry agreed.

“No,” Real Harry said, blank-faced.

“Do it!” Draco hissed and Harry turned to look at him.

_‘OKAY, I’LL DO IT RIGHT NOW,’_ his inner voice screamed at him.

“No,” Real Harry said again.

“You. Are n _ot_. Spending. Christmas. At my. House,” Draco said very slowly though gritted teeth.

“No,” Harry said. “I’m spending Christmas at _my_ house, in case you forgot. If you can’t deal with me being there I suggest you stay at Hogwarts and I’ll give your best to your mother.”

On the inside, Harry once again screamed at himself to stop it, stop being an idiot, stop saying stupid things, just stop!

“ _Fuck you, Potter_ ,” Draco hissed, his nostrils flaring dangerously. Then he marched to his dorm, slamming the door in Lavender’s face before she could follow him in.

_‘Okay,’_ Harry thought. He had got a reaction from Draco. It was time to stop with the nonsense, send the message to Mrs. Malfoy, _refusing_ the offer and letting Draco know that of course he wasn’t going.

Unfortunately Harry didn’t listen to himself.

He quickly composed a new reply to Mrs. Malfoy, accepting the offer, and went to the owlery, where he tied it to Hedwig’s leg and sent her along. All the while he was soundlessly screaming at himself to stopstopstop this madness, don’t send the letter and go beg Draco’s forgiveness.

Harry sighed, not for the first time wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

He decided that the best thing to do at the moment was brood and practice a little misery – a thing he had become increasingly good at. So he skipped supper – he wasn’t hungry anyway, what with being filled up with a confusing mixture of self-loathing and self-pity – and excused himself to Ron and Hermione.

Instead he went to his dorm and dropped down on his bed, threw an arm over his eyes and groaned loudly.

“That bad, huh?” Someone said, startling Harry who had thought he was alone.

He removed his arm and looked in the direction of the question. Neville was settled on his bed, lying on his back with his legs stretched out and his ankles crossed, hands folded on top of his stomach and Harry wondered how he could have not seen him when he walked in.

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“Would you rather be alone?” Neville asked.

“No,” Harry said. “Besides, you were here first.”

“Yeah,” Neville said quietly and they both succumbed to silence, Harry assuming the same position as Neville and staring into the air.

“Neville?” Harry asked after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think crazy people know they’ve gone crazy?”

“I think that would depend on the level of craziness,” Neville answered.

“I guess,” Harry mumbled.

“Do you think you’ve gone crazy?” Neville asked after another few moments’ silence.

Harry contemplated this. “I think I might have, yeah.”

“How so?”

“I just threatened to ruin Draco’s Christmas. Right after I kicked him very hard across the ankle. And you were there after Herbology.”

“You threatened to ruin his Christmas?” Neville asked.

“Well, not in those exact words,” Harry explained. “His mother wrote to me to ask if I wanted to join them for the holidays as I won’t be going to the Burrow.” Harry didn’t see as much as feel Neville’s sudden discomfort. “It’s okay, Neville, really. I don’t blame you. Anymore.”

“Right,” Neville said. “But why would you say that you wanted to spend Christmas with him?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “It just sort of happened. I was actually on my way to the owlery with my refusal of the offer when I accidentally kicked him and told him the opposite.”

Neville chuckled. “Accidentally?”

“Well, for lack of better words,” Harry said, his lips curling in a small smile. “Unintentionally, then.”

“When did you get the offer?” Neville asked.

“Breakfast,” Harry answered.

“So… Why were you only replying to it now? There’s been plenty of time to visit the owlery throughout the day: Before morning class, during lunch, after class…”

“Yes, but Hermione said I should consider it first because that was the polite thing to do.”

“Huh,” Neville said.

There was a few moments’ silence.

“Can I make an observation, Harry?” Neville asked carefully.

“Sure.”

“You rely far too much on Hermione to do your thinking.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.” Neville turned to lie on his side, his arm bent under his head and using his elbow as a pillow. “Has anything she has advised you to do in the current situation solved _any_ of your Malfoy-related problems?”

“Well, not yet, but…”

“And need I remind you of a situation not too long ago where you described in great detail Malfoy’s breakfast habits and morning routines?”

“Well, no, but…”

“ _You’re_ the expert on Malfoy, Harry. Not Hermione. She may be clever and all and great at picking _your_ brain and knowing what _you_ need, but with Malfoy… Not so much.”

“But…”

“Harry. Use your own brain. You’ve always had excellent instincts in regards to Malfoy. Use them. It’ll only take longer if you blindly listen to someone who doesn’t really know what they’re talking about, even though they do sound overly confident about it.”

Harry contemplated this. He knew Neville was right.

“You just think about it, Harry,” Neville continued. “Before all this – when you were still lecturing us all on _‘Knowing Draco Malfoy’_ , what would you have told yourself to do in this situation?”

Harry sighed. “I’m actually going to have to think for myself, aren’t I?”

“Afraid so,” Neville answered.

“You are so freakishly sensible sometimes, Neville.”

Neville chuckled.

“Have you thought about becoming a mind healer?” Harry asked, quite seriously.

“Hadn’t really crossed my mind, no,” Neville said. Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

“You should,” he said. Then he let out a little laugh. “You’d have to be one to be with Ginny.”

There was silence for a while.

“You’d be okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered and meant it. “If it’ll make you happy. But be careful, Neville. I’m telling you; that woman’s a nutter. What I did to her that should warrant that behaviour from her I will never understand. This whole mess is all because of her, really.”

“Sorry,” Neville said quietly.

“Not your fault.”

“Still.”

“ _Are_ you together?” Harry asked curiously.

“She’s been avoiding me since she pulled that stunt with Malfoy.”

“She said the day before that she wanted to apologise to me. Why did I believe her?” Harry asked, mostly himself.

“I don’t know,” Neville answered. “She has a complex mind.”

“Her and Draco both,” Harry said glumly.

An involuntary small laugh escaped Neville. “You do know how to pick them, don’t you?”

Harry couldn’t help snickering and soon they were both laughing. Inexplicably, really. Because it wasn’t really all that funny.

After a while they once again succumbed to silence as Harry lay contemplating what Neville had said. He knew Neville was right in saying that Harry knew Draco a whole lot better than Hermione. It was just so much easier to just listen to Hermione and do what she told him to.

In the end he decided to give the begging another go – just in case – as he tried to figure out what to do. It couldn’t hurt, right?

 

At breakfast Thursday morning Harry was sat across from Ron and Hermione and next to Dean who had Seamus on his other side. When the owls started swooping in and finding the recipients of their letters and packages, three identical eagle owls flew in the direction of the Gryffindor table and let go of three identical packages in front of the three boys sitting next to each other. Harry’s coffee was knocked over, Seamus’ package landed in his porridge and Dean’s landed on a piece of buttered toast.

Harry picked it up. It was heavier than he had expected. And bigger. He hoped the size of the contents didn’t match the size of the box.

“What’d you get?” Ron asked curiously, eyeing the boxes and trying to determine what could possibly be in them. Hermione already had her nose buried in The Prophet and so didn’t pay any attention.

“Nothing,” all three boys answered as one.

“Right,” Ron said slowly, looking very sceptical.

“I think I’m full,” Dean said. “I think I’ll go back to the dorm and relax a bit.” He got up.

“Yeah, me too,” Seamus said and got up as well.

“I’ll help,” Harry said nonsensically and also stood up.

Together they left the Great Hall, leaving Ron staring after them with a frown on his face.

Back in the dorm Harry, Dean and Seamus stood looking at each other for a couple of moments. Then Harry sat down on his bed, and Seamus and Dean copied him.

Harry unwrapped the brown paper and was presented with a box, approximately nine by nine inches in size. On the box was written ‘ _BUTT PLUG – FOR YOUR PLEASURE (silicone_ )’ in large font. Underneath was a picture of said plug. It was black and, in Harry’s opinion, huge, taking up a lot of the remaining space on the front side of the box. To his relief it said in small writing at the bottom ‘ _1½” by 4_ ”’. On the three other sides of the box were pictures of the same plug but in different colours: The picture on one side was what Harry supposed was meant to be ‘skin’ colour. Another picture was neon pink with glitter and the last picture a vivid lime green.  On the back of the box was another message in small writing: _‘Image on front may not reflect colour in box.’_ Harry hoped to Merlin that his wasn’t pink. Preferably skin, he thought.

He opened the box and took out a plastic container, where a black (thank fuck) plug was nestled in a form fitting hole. Next to the plug was another form-fitting hole that held a small remote control and below that two batteries. The plug looked harmless, considering the image on the front. He took it out of the box and held it up in front of him and studied it.

Harry took out the two batteries and the remote control and put the batteries in. He pushed one of the buttons, and the plug started shaking in his hand. Shocked, he gave a yelp and dropped it on the floor where it continued vibrating. Fumbling with the remote control, he was eventually able to turn it off, and he picked it up again.

He looked up and looked at Seamus and Dean who were still sitting down on each their bed. Dean was looking at his skin-coloured plug warily, looking at it carefully as if he was afraid it might pounce on him. Seamus looked sort of awed, though also quite horrified – perhaps at the fact that the plug he was holding was light purple with a thin turquoise line drawn on it in a spiral from bottom to top, and sprinkled with silver glitter.

Harry couldn’t help the small snicker that escaped him at the sight of it, and both the other boys looked up. Dean took one look at the plug in Seamus’ hands and burst out laughing.

“Anyone want to swap?” Seamus asked.

“Not a chance,” Harry said, and Dean shook his head, still laughing.

Seamus wrinkled his nose and frowned at the colourful object in his hand.

“It’s not like you’re going to see it, where it’s going, anyway,” Harry continued.

“But I’m not even planning on using it. I just wanted to have it.”

“Right,” Harry said, not believing it for a second.

“Are you going to?” Dean asked Harry curiously. “Use it, I mean.”

“I might,” Harry said. “Having experienced, you know, _it_ , I wouldn’t be averse to trying it.”

It was at that moment that the door opened and Ron walked in. He took in the spectacle.

“What on earth are those?” he asked, looking at the strange objects that Harry, Dean and Seamus were currently holding on to.

“Uh…” Dean and Seamus both said.

“They’re ornaments,” Harry lied, trying his best to look convincing.

“Yeah,” Dean seconded. “The newest must-have among muggles.”

Ron eyed the ‘ornaments’ sceptically. “Not very pretty ones. Especially yours, Seamus – that’s butt ugly.”

Harry, Dean and Seamus all snickered at the unintended reference.

“What’s funny?” Ron asked confused.

“Nothing,” Harry said, still snickering. “Let’s go to the common room.”

“All right,” Ron agreed. “You guys coming along?” he asked, directed at Dean and Seamus.

Seamus yawned – a very apparent fake yawn.

“I’m actually a bit tired,” he said. “I think I’ll take a short nap before class.”

Harry and Dean looked at each other. Dean looked slightly nauseous at the thought of his friend ‘taking a nap’ with his new ‘ornament’. Harry’s snickers started again.

“You’re acting odd,” Ron said, frowning and looking at him warily.

“When am I not?” Harry asked lightly. He tossed the plug and remote on his bed and shut the drapes, and Dean copied his actions, and Seamus tried to feign tiredness as he crawled onto his bed and pulled the drapes shut.

“Do you think Hermione would like an ornament like that? In the colours Seamus had,” Ron asked on their way out of the dorm.

“Definitely not,” Harry assured him.

 

Upon entering the common room Harry’s thoughts immediately went to Draco again, and he resolved to continue trying to get him to talk to him.

And so, Thursday he spent another two hours getting docked points by Snape during DADA and suffering close to murderous glances from his fellow Gryffindors. He also continued with a sturdy stream of ‘ _please talk to me_ ’s’ all through Potions, until Draco at the end of the lesson slammed his hand onto the desk with a loud bang that startled Harry, and turned towards him.

“ _Enough, Harry!_ ” he said firmly, and Harry was so surprised, not only that Draco finally talked to him but that he had called him by his given name, that he just stood there, eyes wide in surprise and completely mute.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Draco continued. “I don’t want you to beg me to talk to you because Hermione told you that’s what I want. What you’re doing is not begging. It’s empty words. It’s not you, and quite frankly, it’s insulting. I don’t want that. I also don’t want you to verbally or physically assault me.”

“But what _do_ you want?” Harry asked, hoping desperately to get a straight answer. “Please, just tell me. I’ll do anything, just _please_.”

Draco sighed. “I want you to leave me alone, Harry. I don’t want to talk to you.” He looked at Harry with pleading eyes as he said it. “I don’t. Want. To be with you.” He looked so serious. Not angry, not annoyed. Just serious. And sad. Or perhaps that was just Harry.

Then he turned and left the dungeon, leaving Harry standing with his mouth slightly open and a horrible gut-wrenching feeling that things would never ever be okay again. He tried to summon the energy to become annoyed instead of sad but just couldn’t.

He stood looking at the now empty doorway until he felt Ron pat his back.

“Come on, mate,” Ron said. “It’ll be okay. He just needs time.”

In the hallway Harry saw Draco and Parkinson talking animatedly by the wall. He hoped he didn’t just imagine the feeling of Draco’s eyes following him on his way out of the dungeon.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked back to the common room in silence. When they got there Harry got out his Transfigurations essay and sat staring at the headline for an hour. Harry felt that it was a testament to his sad situation that Hermione didn’t even try to make him study.

At supper Harry sat poking his food without really paying attention to it. Occasionally he would search out Draco at the Slytherin table and just look at him – granted; some might call it staring. Sometimes he caught Draco looking back with a blank expression on his face.

“Go talk to him,” Hermione said, prodding him with a finger.

“For fuck’s sake, Hermione, just stop it!” Harry snapped. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. Just leave it, alright.”

“But…” Hermione said before Harry got up and left the Great Hall.

*

It was Draco’s intention to go straight back to the common room after Potions to sulk for the rest of the day and force himself to think about how much he loathed Harry, the untrusting bastard.

However, taking advantage of one of the rare moments they were undisturbed by the annoying, persistent Brown-bint, Pansy cornered him and took a firm hold of his robes, grabbing it in the front, balling her hand into a fist and twisting it so he would have a hard time getting loose. She then held him in place, back against the wall, and pulled at the robes so his face was completely close to hers.

“You promised to get rid of her,” she growled in a very low voice. “On Tuesday. That’s two days ago, Draco.”

“I tried,” Draco said, his airway somewhat troubled by Pansy’s grip. “She doesn’t get it.”

Pansy released him from her grip, and Draco immediately straightened his back and adjusted his robes. “Well why the fuck don’t you just tell her to fuck off and get lost?”

“I did,” Draco said. “Twice. She just doesn’t get it. It’s like she doesn’t understand the words coming out of my mouth.”

“How on earth can someone not get that?” Pansy asked incredulously. “Are you sure that’s what you told her?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said exasperatedly. “And yes; that _is_ what I told her. To the word. I think there’s something wrong with her brain. There must be. Or she really _is_ suffering from selective hearing or something.”

Movement caught Draco’s eyes and he watched as Harry exited the Potions classroom along with Hermione and Ron. He followed Harry with his eyes.

“Well you’re just going to have to keep trying, Draco,” Pansy hissed, prodding at his chest with her index finger. “She’s driving me mad. She tried to do my hair this morning. She tried to dye my hair, Draco. A mad person had their fucking wand pointed at my head. She wanted to put auburn reflexes in it and put some wave in it to ‘ _make it look more inviting and to soften my unfortunate pointy features and sharp edges_ ’. I very nearly throttled her.”

Despite the fact that there really was a serious problem, Draco couldn’t help snickering at the thought of Brown trying to braid Pansy’s hair.

“How did you get away?” he asked curiously.

“I hissed at her and ran,” Pansy said in despair. “I panicked, Draco. She has me reduced to hissing and running away. I’m acting like a fucking cat.” Then she narrowed her eyes and propped her hands on her hips. “She’s mental, and you’re going to find a way to get rid of her. I am _this_ close to murder.” She held up her hand and indicated with two fingers how close to murder she was. She was very close indeed.

“And if I end up murdering her,” Pansy continued, “you can be certain that I’m framing _you_. And I really don’t fancy having my best friend locked up in Azkaban. And Blaise wouldn’t even be there to comfort me because he’d be upset that I murdered Brown before he got a chance to shag her.” She once again pointed her finger at him and narrowed her eyes as she hissed, “ _get. It. Done._ ” Then she turned on her heel and left with a huff.

Draco was at a loss as to what would be necessary to get rid of the persistent Gryffindor. He resolved, for a start, to just continue being rude and unpleasant.

That was why, when Lavender tried to impose her company on him as he returned to the common room, he got up and left for the Slytherin boys’ dorm without a word.

 

Later, at supper, Draco watched as Harry sat at the Gryffindor table without speaking to anybody and just poking at his food. He made sure to keep his face emotionless – an art he mastered to an O. It was amazing what wonders it did to your acting skills to share a house with a psychopath.

“ _That’s_ what I want,” he told Pansy and Blaise who were sitting across from him with their backs to the Gryffindor table.

They both looked over their shoulders as Hermione poked Harry, still poking at his food, with a finger and told him something.

Pansy and Blaise looked back at Draco. “He looks normal to me,” Blaise said with a frown.

“He’s not,” Draco said. “If he keeps up the good work I’ll forgive him sometime tomorrow.” He took a bite of chicken and watched as Harry left the Great Hall.

*

Hermione frowned as she watched Harry leave the Great Hall. She had been sitting with Ron on one side and Harry on the other and was now, as Harry had left, sitting next to Neville. Dean and Seamus were sitting opposite them.

“I told him to listen to his own Malfoy-instincts, Hermione,” Neville said quietly without looking at her.

“Oh,” she answered, immediately catching on to the unsaid _‘- not you’_.

“No offence,” Neville continued, still focussing mainly on scooping another helping of mash onto his plate.

“Of course,” Hermione answered, still a little surprised.

“Mash,” Ron said, nudging her with his elbow. His mouth was over-stuffed with pie and a few crumbs from the crust flew out as he spoke.

Hermione did not bother to hide her disgust as she looked at him and raised an eyebrow in an unsaid ‘ _what do we say_ ’.

An undefined sound exited Ron’s mouth. Hermione was pretty sure it was some version of ‘please’.

“You’re disgusting,” she said as she passed him the mashed potatoes. Ron shrugged, still chewing his pie, and helped himself to a large scoop.

Just then Hermione felt Neville’s arm shoot out and grab hold of someone walking by. She looked up and saw Ginny standing there, trying to extract her arm from Neville’s grip. The clatter of plates and cutlery from Ron’s, Dean’s and Seamus’ seats stopped abruptly and she heard Ron swallow his food audibly.

Neville looked at Ginny who stubbornly tried avoiding his eyes. “Meet me in the Greenhouses in an hour. You know which one.”

“I’m not sure I –“ Ginny started.

“I wasn’t asking,” Neville told her and kept looking at her until eventually she met his eyes and bobbed her head in a small nod.

Neville let go of her arm and she hurried along the table and out of the Great Hall. He went back to concentrating on his supper without comment and after a few minutes so did Ron, Dean and Seamus.

Hermione, however, saw a chance. Of sorts. She hurriedly washed down the string bean she had been chewing with a large gulp of water and leaned over to say quietly in Ron’s ear. “Don’t get angry.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “What are you up to?” he asked.

“I just heard Neville tell Ginny to meet her in the greenhouses in an hour.”

“So did I. So?”

Hermione blushed. She wasn’t exactly proud of her intentions.

“Oh, Hermione,” Ron whispered exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”

Ron lifted an eyebrow in response.

“Would you rather I didn’t?” Hermione asked. She was keen on doing it but would refrain from it if Ron was bothered by it – it was, after all, his sister. And since she and Ron were now dating, she thought she ought to take that into consideration.

Ron looked at her as if considering it. “No. And bring Malfoy. Draco.”

“Really?” Hermione asked quietly. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Yes!This whole _‘who’s-into-who’_ and ‘ _oh-my-god-did-you-hear/see/feel/sense-that?_ ’ and ‘ _I-just-know-he/she/it-is-up-to-something_ ’ is driving me mad. I don’t know how spying on Ginny and Neville is going to solve anything but if there’s even the slightest chance, it’s worth it. Plus, it might make M-Draco focus on something other than being mad at Harry, and they can make up and we’ll be rid of all this nonsense and everything can go back to normal. And as a bonus, maybe Lavender will think you’re after Draco and break up with him. Then we’d at least be rid of _that_ spectacle while the stubborn gits decide to make up.”

“All right, then,” Hermione said smiling and looked at him adoringly until he rolled her eyes at her again.

“For Merlin’s sake, woman, just get going, would you?”

She pecked him on the cheek and hurried (as much as she could without looking conspicuous) across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly as she reached Draco’s seat.

“Yes, well, if it’s about what I think it’s about, just leave it.”

“It’s not. Directly. Neville is meeting Ginny in the greenhouses.”

Draco’s head snapped up and he looked at her suspiciously. “So?

“So…” Hermione explained.

“Say it,” Draco said as he had once before.

Hermione shuffled from foot to foot. “Seriously? Again?”

“Seriously. Again.”

She shuffled some more, then sighed, resigned. “Fine.” She lowered her voice considerably and bent down even further, talking quietly into his ear. Next to Draco, Pansy leaned in to be able to hear what Hermione was saying. “I would appreciate it if you would accompany me to the greenhouses to… observe the interaction between Ginny and Neville.”

“Why should I?” Draco asked, apparently satisfied with her answer.

“Because you’re curious.”

“No, Hermione,” Draco said. “You want me with you because _you’re_ curious. And, like last time we did this, it makes you feel better if you have someone with you so you’re not the only one spying. And it makes you feel even better that I’m a Slytherin because you believe that Slytherins are prone to spying – perhaps me in particular. You may even be able to convince yourself that you just kindly delivered information that I needed to carry on my evil ways, and that you were only accompanying me as a favour to me. I’d say ‘correct me if I’m wrong’ but we both know that I am right, so…”

Next to Draco Pansy snickered.

Hermione felt a blush creeping up her neck. He was right. And the smug look on his face told her he knew it, too.

Draco cocked his head. “Tell me; what was it they said killed the cat?” he asked.

“Bad fish,” Hermione answered drily, blank-faced.

Draco snorted.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Draco,” Pansy interjected. “Just do it. What’s the harm? It’ll be fun. You need some fun.”

Draco didn’t answer. Hermione glanced over to the Gryffindor table where Lavender was glaring daggers at her.

“It might even help you get rid of Lavender,” she said casually.

“Do it, Draco,” Pansy said firmly. “If you don’t, I’ll force you.”

“How?” Draco asked.

Pansy considered him. “I’m not opposed to tying you up, gagging you and levitating you out of here. Or do something excruciatingly painful to you. Boils perhaps. On your scrotum. And that horrible stench Smith suffered from.”

Draco rolled his eyes at her. “No, I meant how will spying on the Weaselette help me get rid of Brown?”

“She doesn’t particularly like me,” Hermione explained. “She still thinks I stole Ron from her last year. Maybe she’ll think I’m doing the same to you.” She raised her hands in front of her head and let them glide through the air in opposite directions as if imitating a sign. “Hermione Granger: Homewrecker Extraordinaire”.

“Didn’t you?” Draco asked. “Break them up, I mean?”

“Not intentionally,” Hermione said. “Ron said my name when he was sleeping. He didn’t even know what he was saying. It might not even have meant something. I just refrained from explaining that to her.” She studied the nails of one of her hands.

“Why, I do believe there’s a little Slytherin somewhere in there,” Pansy said with a smirk.

Hermione glared at her uncomfortably.

“Still seems like a long shot,” he said as he glared at the annoying Gryffindor across the hall.

“Yes,” Hermione admitted. “And it might not have any effect at all.”

“Then why should I do it?”

“Because you _are_ curious. And because I think Pansy’s serious.”

“Very.” Pansy nodded.

Draco sighed. “Fine,”

She pulled Draco from his seat. “They’re meeting in the Greenhouses in an hour. We have to leave now.”

“Now?” Draco asked. “I’d say there’s plenty of time to finish pudding.”

“Yes, but I have an errand to run first and it will have a better effect if Lavender sees us leave together. Besides, I need you to go save us a spot before they get there.”

“You make it sound like we’re going to the theatre or something,” he said, eyeing the various puddings that had just appeared on the table longingly.

“See you later, Draco,” Pansy said firmly as she practically pushed him off his seat.

And so Hermione and Draco made their way out of the Great Hall. Hermione cast a glance in the direction of the Gryffindor table, seeking out first Ron who blew a kiss at her, and then Lavender who was watching them intently.

They went to their respective dorms and got their coats, scarves, gloves and hats, and then walked together down the stairs to the entrance hall.

“You go along and I’ll meet you there in a bit,” Hermione said and took off in the opposite direction, giving no further explanation.

“What’s your errand, anyway?” Draco called out after her as she left.

“You’ll see,” Hermione answered secretly, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

She heard Draco grumble something unintelligible that sounded a bit like _‘this is ridiculous’_ but she was too far away to be sure.

*

Seeing as there were seven greenhouses and Draco had no idea which one the Weaselette and Longbottom were going to have their chat in, he hid behind Greenhouse One, which gave him a relatively clear view of the rest of them.

There was still over half an hour until the alleged meeting was going to take place when Draco spotted Longbottom walking across the lawn. He walked into Greenhouse Seven.

Draco crept along the greenhouses trying to make himself as invisible as possible. He was by Greenhouse Six (creeping along carefully it had taken him about fifteen minutes to get there) when it occurred to him that he could have just cast a disillusionment charm. So, belatedly, he cast one but still took care to remain out of sight.

About five minutes later he poked his head out from behind the greenhouse to look for Hermione and was startled as she came sprinting towards him as fast as the six inch layer of snow and the wicker basket hanging from her arm would allow it. All the while she was pointing her wand backwards to erase her foot prints.

He waved at her to join him behind Greenhouse Seven. She slumped down the glass wall, out of breath and sweaty.

“ _I forgot that you’re fully visible from the school on your way down here, so they’d be able to see me unless I got here before they left_ ,” she whispered as she regained her breath.

“ _Longbottom’s already here,”_ Draco informed, also in a whisper. _“Now, do you have some sort of plan or will we just have to wing it?_ ”

“ _Plan?_ ”

Draco rolled his eyes. “ _It’s going to be rather difficult listening in on them unless we’re on the same side of the wall. And we can’t very well cast that dreadful spell of Pansy’s I’ve been subjected to a few times – everybody walking by would be able to hear them, and while I don’t particularly care, I’m pretty sure you do. So; do you have a plan?_ ”

Hermione blushed and Draco rolled his eyes again at her idiocy.

_“Okay,”_ he whispered. _“There’s a door in each end of the greenhouse. If we can create a diversion we may be able to get inside without Longbottom noticing. Aided by disillusionment charms and with a massive amount of luck.”_

_“Good idea,”_ Hermione whispered back. _“He’ll be at the far end. He’s very good at Herbology so Professor Sprout let him have a corner of the greenhouse to breed hybrids and experimenting and such.”_

Draco snorted as quietly as he could. “Geek,” he muttered and Hermione shot him a reproaching look that Draco didn’t respond to.

He pointed his wand at a snowman standing a couple of yards away from the greenhouse and cast a ‘confringo’, eliciting very little sound as the carrot nose and charcoal buttons met their end in a tiny explosion. There was a shower of tiny snowballs as the snowman partly exploded, partly melted.

Though it made very little sound it was enough to catch Longbottom’s attention.

“Ginny?” he asked as he poked out his head and looked around. Seeing no one he walked out of the greenhouse to look around and Draco and Hermione quickly slipped inside through the door opposite Neville’s.

Their new problem was that they had had no idea if there was anywhere to hide. Looking around Draco only saw tables full of plants and dirty work desks. They couldn’t well hide under a table with nothing other to cover them than a wooden board. If the Weaselette or Longbottom chose to look down they would be discovered immediately.

Internally cursing – and not for the first time – this ridiculous idea of Hermione’s, he looked around to chide her for not thinking this through _at all_. She wasn’t there.

“Pssst.” A soft sound came from the corner of the greenhouse closest to the door they had just entered through. Hermione was crouched under a corner table _underneath a fucking tarpaulin_!

“ _No fucking way, Granger,_ ” he hissed as loudly as he dared and shook his head violently.

_“Do you want to be discovered?”_ she hissed back.

Grumbling, Draco resigned and crouched down to join Hermione under the tarp. Granger immediately cast disillusionment charms and silencing charms over the both of them. She also cast a cushioning charm and a heating spell. It did little to soften Draco’s rapidly increasing annoyance.

Well, at least they were positioned so they had a good view over most of the greenhouse.

_“You are going to owe me_ big _time for this, Hermione,”_ Draco hissed. _“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. And Pansy. But mostly you. Reduced to hiding under fucking dirty tarps. Fucking pathetic.”_

“ _Come on, Draco, it’s not so bad. It’s exciting,”_ Hermione whispered back.

_“It is_ not _exciting. You made me miss pudding. And it’s fucking freezing.”_ It wasn’t, really. Hermione’s heating charm was effective, but it was still too chilly for him to be comfortable.

_“Oh, that reminds me,_ ” Granger whispered and pulled forward the wicker basket that Draco had completely forgotten about.

She pulled out a thermos, two mugs and a tea towel folded around something.

“ _Coffee and doughnuts, remember?”_ Hermione grinned.

Draco didn’t know whether to grin along with her or to make fun of her. He turned his head to look at her.

_“You’ve been waiting for something like this to happen just so you could do that, haven’t you?”_ he asked. Hermione blushed and didn’t answer. “ _You’re off your rocker, Granger,”_ Draco told her, shaking his head in wonder.

Hermione ignored his comments as she poured their coffee and laid out the tea towel with a selection of doughnuts in front of them. After they had both chosen one – Draco chose a plain one sprinkled with sugar – they directed their attention to Longbottom who had entered the greenhouse again. He was standing by a work desk in the far corner, fiddling with some plants that Draco couldn’t see. He wasn’t wearing any outerwear but didn’t appear to be cold. He had pushed up his sleeves, baring his lower arms.

After a few minutes the She-weasel entered the greenhouse and stopped just inside the door without speaking. Without looking back Longbottom washed his hands in a small tub of water and wiped them with a cloth. He cast a cleaning charm to take care of any leftover dirt. Then he turned around.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, blank faced and folding his arms over his chest.

The Weaselette took off her coat, scarf, gloves and earmuffs, and let them lie on one of the work stations. She looked away, avoiding his eyes.

“And that was _not_ what I meant by ‘apology’,” he continued. It didn’t really make any sense to Draco but he figured there must be a context.

The Weaselette mirrored Longbottom and crossed her arms over her chest as well, still avoiding his gaze.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said in a way that indicated that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You know what I’m talking about, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “The stunt you pulled with Malfoy. I don’t know how you get from _‘I suppose I_ do _owe Harry an apology’_ – which you _did_ say – to _that_. It was _evil_ , Ginny.”

She looked at him and raised her chin defiantly. “He owed me an apology, too,” she said. “I didn’t get one. So I figured it evened itself out.”

“ _Merlin, Ginny_ ,” Longbottom said loudly, burying his hands in his hair in frustration. The Weaselette flinched. “When are you going to learn that _your_ actions don’t need to be defined by everybody else’s? If you’ve done something bad to someone, you apologise. If the person you’ve done it to, has done something to you that you think warrants an apology and doesn’t give you one – you _still_ apologise. Don’t put the responsibility of _you_ behaving decently on someone else’s shoulders.”

“He slept with Malfoy. And did all sorts of other things with him.”

Longbottom pointed at her with his index finger. “I am _not_ having this conversation with you again, Ginny,” he said sternly. “First of all; Harry didn’t sleep with Malfoy until _after_ you’d broken up, and in regards to all the other stuff; _it doesn’t matter_! _You_ did something wrong; _you_ apologise!”

“You’re not the boss of me. You don’t get to decide what I should and shouldn’t do.”

“I realise that, Ginny,” Longbottom said. “But you’re obviously incapable of acting liking a decent person unless someone else tells you what to do.” He was gesturing with both hands as he spoke.

The Weaselette cocked her head and walked closer to Longbottom. She raised her hand and trailed her index finger down his torso, letting it rest on his belt as a hook.

“ _Do_ you want to be the boss of me?” she asked in a purring, seductive voice even Draco had to admit was alluring. She pressed her chest up flush against Longbottom’s and leaned so close her lips were ghosting his neck as she tilted her head up. Draco saw Longbottom’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “ _Do_ you want to tell me what to do?” the Weaselette continued, her lips barely touching Longbottom’s neck.

Hermione spluttered, choking on a sip of coffee. Some of it spilled out her nose and Draco didn’t know whether to laugh at her or show disgust. Thank Merlin they cast a silencing charms.

Perhaps it was his imagination but Draco was fairly certain that Longbottom shivered. He licked his lips subconsciously and looked down at the Weaselette. Draco could see his chest heave as his breath quickened and became shallow.

Draco couldn’t help grinning as he whispered, _“Oh, you_ do _want to be the boss of her, don’t you, Longbottom, you kinky bastard.”_

Next to him Hermione was shaking her head, holding her hands to her cheeks. _“Oh god, please not here,”_ she whispered.

The Weaselette slid her arms around Longbottom’s neck and parted her lips. Her tongue darted out and she licked his neck from the collarbone to the jaw.

Longbottom’s eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted as he gasped.

_“Nonono,”_ Hermione was whispering next to him, still shaking her head.

Draco snickered. _“I bet he’d be good at it, too,”_ he told Hermione in a whisper. _“He’d be all_ ‘Don’t pick that flower without your gloves on, Ms. Weasley, or you’ll need to be punished’, _and she’d do it anyway, and he would…”_

_“Don’t_ say _stuff like that,”_ Hermione interrupted Draco in a high pitch whisper – as high pitch as a whisper could get, anyway – and punched his shoulder before she shut her eyes tight and covered them with her hands.

Draco snickered again. If Longbottom and the She-weasel decided to have sex then and there he would consider it a suitable punishment for Hermione for having practically dragged him out in the December frost and made him hide under a fucking dirty tarp like a creepy stalker. Then again; Draco would have to suffer through it, too, and he had no desire at all to witness a repeat of the things Harry was practically forced to do to the Weaselette in the common room.

The Weaselette had started sucking Longbottom’s neck lightly, and Draco could see a crease shaping on his forehead. His arms were hanging passively by his sides, his hands formed into fists. He bit his lip. Then he visibly pulled himself together. He moved up his arms and removed the Weaselette’s arms from around his neck. Then he backed away from her. As she moved forward Longbottom held up a hand to stop her.

“Ginny, stop it.”

“Why?” she purred. “I know you want to. I can tell. You want me.”

“What I want and don’t want is irrelevant right now, Ginny,” he said, both voice and expression stern. Then both his face and tone softened. “You’re not well, Ginny. What you’re doing… The way you’re behaving – the things you’re doing to yourself; it’s sick, Ginny. You’re sick. I won’t be doing anything with you until you get some help.”

The Weaselette looked like she’d been slapped – and not in the way she liked. She hugged herself as she looked down.

Hermione gasped. “ _That’s it,”_ she whispered. _“She’s_ sick _. She needs professional help. Why didn’t I think of that?”_

_“Because you think you can fix everything by yourself,”_ Draco answered. _“This is going to rattle your world, Hermione.”_

_“Shut up,”_ she hissed. _“I just didn’t know wizards could suffer from mental illness.”_

Draco looked at her in wonder. _“Why on earth would they not be able to do that?”_

_“I don’t know, okay,”_ Hermione hissed.

_“Haven’t you ever heard of the Janus Thickey Ward?”_

_“Of course I have, you arse, but that’s for people whose brains are permanently_ spell _damaged, not people who are just sick.”_

_“Okay,”_ Draco whispered back, _“then a practical example; there’s this man who demands that others call him ‘My Lord’ and whose goal is to firstly murder a teenage boy, then smite about two thirds of the wizarding population in his pursuit for world domination. And having experienced my great aunt Walburga’s portrait I’d say there’s a fair chance something was wrong with her as well. I also have this aunt who has a fondness for torture and a disgustingly unnatural relationship with this werewolf. Greyback is his name. I wouldn’t exactly classify him as sane either. Not to mention my own father. That’s the only examples I can come up with from the top of my head – let me know if it isn’t enough and I’ll sleep on it.”_

Hermione blushed. _“Shut up.”_

Draco snorted and directed his attention to Longbottom and the Weaselette. They had missed part of the interaction between the two, due to Hermione’s ridiculous misconceptions, and Longbottom was now hugging the Weaselette who looked very subdued and a little as if she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

“Let’s get you sorted and then we’ll talk about it, yeah?” he said and kissed the top of her head.

The Weaselette nodded and sniffled. Longbottom broke the embrace and squeezed her shoulders as he removed his arms from around her neck. She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and began putting on her outerwear. When everything was on she looked Longbottom in the eyes.

“You’re a wonderful person, Ginny,” he said. “Go act like one.” He gave her a small smile and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he walked her to the door and stood looking for a while as she walked towards the castle. After a while he turned and walked back to where he had been working with his plants before the Weaselette had shown up.

Now all they had to do was get out. From where they were currently hiding they should be able to make a diversion of some sort and then sneak out with the help of a disillusionment charm.

Except that when Draco was getting ready to cast another small confringo as a diversion, Longbottom chose to move through the greenhouse to stand directly in front of where Draco and Hermione were crouching under the table. He shuffled around for a few moments as if looking for something. Then he moved to the end of the table right by the door Draco and Hermione were planning on escaping through.

Longbottom continued shuffling through whatever was on the table, in search of something. Draco was only able to see his legs and could see him shift around, occasionally standing on his toes as he leaned over the table. Eventually he stopped and Draco hoped to Merlin he was going to move to his own workstation again.

But he didn’t. Longbottom leaned his back on the door and sighed deeply as he slumped down it and pulled up his knees. He was now firmly placed right in front of their exit route. If not for the tarp and the disillusionment charm Longbottom would be able to see Draco and Hermione, should he look to the left.

_“Great,”_ Draco hissed. _“_ Now _what do we do?”_

_“Right,”_ Hermione whispered. _“A plan… Okay; we’ll create a diversion, sneak out and run back to the castle.”_

_“That’s your plan?”_ Draco hissed. _“That’s pathetic.”_

_Well it’s all I have,”_ she hissed back. _“You come up with something, then.”_

Draco looked at Longbottom who was rubbing his brow with a dirt covered hand. He stretched out his legs, let his arms fall to his sides and his head fall backwards. Then he just sat there motionless, looking straight ahead.

Draco breathed in hard through his nose. _“Well, Granger, unless you can make a disillusionment charm so strong it’ll make us invisible we’re going to have to stay here until he moves or falls asleep, because there’s no way he’s not going to notice us if we start moving now, even if we_ are _covered with a charm,”_ he hissed at her.

_“Don’t blame me,”_ she hissed back. _“It’s not my fault he decided to take a rest right there.”_

_“No, but it most definitely_ is _your fault that_ I’m _here.”_

_“Oh, come off it; you wanted to come as much as I did.”_

_“I beg to differ.”_

_“Well I don’t, and I bet you, next time…”_

_“_ No _, Hermione. Enough with the spying. What are we, twelve? And what’s the use anyway? We haven’t gained_ any _knowledge, except that Longbottom is into –“_

_“Don’t say it,”_ Hermione said.

_“- domination,”_ he finished anyway. _“And I’d hardly call that useful.”_

_“Well, I must admit that I had hoped to learn something that might encourage you to forgive Harry, so we can be done with all this ridiculousness.”_

_“I don’t want to talk about Harry,”_ Draco said. It was still his plan to forgive Harry tomorrow but Hermione didn’t need to know that.

_“Draco, please; why can’t you just tell him what it is you want from him?”_

_“Because I want him to figure it out for himself. And don’t think I can’t tell the difference between when you tell him what to do and when he does something on his own accord. So just leave it alone and mind your own business,”_ he practically spat at her.

She didn’t respond to that, merely glared at him.

 

In the end they had to wait until just before curfew when Longbottom glanced at his watch and got up as he swore. He had not fallen asleep or even closed his eyes except for blinking and Draco and Hermione had been forced to remain under the table in an increasingly strained silence.

After stretching, eliciting a crack from his back, Longbottom quickly put on his outerwear and hurried out the door and towards the castle. Draco and Hermione had to wait for several minutes before they were able to follow him back, as he would be able to see them if he looked back, should they follow him too closely.

Draco spent the entire time on their way through the snow making sure Hermione was aware that one; she owed Draco dearly, two; Draco’s evening was ruined and for what, three; he was cold, wet and tired, and four; _she_ was to blame for the whole fucking thing.

Hermione had been gracious about it to begin with, but as it was a long walk back to the castle and then further up to the common room, she eventually got sick of it and responded by going on about how none of this would have been necessary if only Draco and Harry would get over themselves and work things out.

Draco then responded by saying that it hadn’t been necessary at all, even if they _did_ work it out and that he had just been aiding Hermione in satisfying her curiosity and was currently being punished for his kindness.

In the end they were both ranting at the same time and paying no attention to what the other was saying.

Draco was practically livid as they entered the common room forty minutes after curfew. If Hermione hadn’t been a prefect he might have docked points from Gryffindor for her being out after hours.

The common room went quiet as they walked in, late, wet, sweaty and red in the face due to the snow and cold outside and following heat of the castle – not to mention the arguing. Without wishing Hermione goodnight Draco strode off through the common room in the direction of his dorm. He ignored Pansy who called out to him – this was almost equally her fault as it was Hermione’s.

“Dray-Dray,” he heard a shrill voice call out just as he put his hand on the handle to the Slytherin boys’ dorm.

He breathed in through the nose as he counted to ten. He turned around. “I believe I’ve told you several times to never call me that again,” he said through gritted teeth.

“But, Dray-Dray, where have you –” Brown said.

“DAMMIT, WOMAN, STOP USING THAT RIDICULOUS EPITHET AND JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE,” he roared, interrupting her.

She looked taken aback for a moment. Then she recovered and smiled at him softly. “I get it; you’re tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She winked and blew him a kiss.

He looked at her, gobsmacked for a moment before he entered his dorm and for who knows which time that week slammed the door behind him.

*

Friday morning Harry made up his mind to stop approaching Draco with pleas for forgiveness. Hermione was still persistent in her belief that begging was the right approach to take but Harry was certain that that wasn’t what Draco wanted. He still wasn’t sure what he _did_ want, though, which was maddening as hell.

He only approached Draco once, at breakfast. Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, eating his breakfast and sipping his coffee, as Harry walked up to stand next to him. Parkinson, Zabini and several other 7th year Slytherins blatantly stared at him as he cleared his throat to get Draco’s attention.

“I just…” he said as Draco looked at him, expression blank as ever. “I just wanted to let you know I’m staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. And… I just…” (he sighed) “Just have a nice Christmas, will you?” Then he nodded to himself and headed for his own house table.

He could feel Draco’s eyes on his back.

Not knowing that Draco was planning on forgiving him later that same day Harry sat down for breakfast feeling frustrated and a little resigned. He had done a lot of thinking yesterday evening and was nowhere near a solution. He was fairly certain that Draco wanted Harry to suffer. Which he _did_. But that was the only thing he was (almost) certain of. He had no idea how he was going to show Draco he was suffering without seeming to not take it seriously. He also had no idea if Harry suffering would be enough to get Draco to forgive him. And he was scared as hell that he really _had_ ruined everything and Draco wouldn’t want to be with him again. That Draco had meant what he said after Potions.

He had discussed this with Ron yesterday evening when Hermione was out doing Merlin knows what with Draco, which – if Harry must be honest with himself, and he might as well – had caused a rather large surge of jealousy to run through his veins. Ron seemed to take it pretty cool, though, so Harry decided that he could, too, and tried not to let his imagination run amok.

He wasn’t upset with Ron or Hermione anymore, about the fact that they had talked to Draco and not told him, because Ron was right; he probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Ron was adamant in his belief that Draco had been acting. Harry hoped he was. He had certainly looked serious. But it was still possible he didn’t mean it, because – as Harry had pointed out to Ron – he imagined living with a mad dark lord was bound to improve one’s acting skills. He just didn’t dare believe it fully. Just in case.

For a start Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas and let Draco know that he wouldn’t be disturbing his Christmas celebrations. Now that that was done, eliciting no other reaction than a standard glare, Harry didn’t know what to do next.

On their way to Herbology, when Hermione, once again, urged him to up the begging, Harry very rudely asked her to fucking leave it and quit fucking badgering him. Hermione had opened her mouth to retort but Ron had told her to just leave it and let Harry work it out. He then told Harry to lay off Hermione because she was only trying to help. Which was true, but didn’t make it any less annoying.

Harry partnered up with Neville again, who also seemed to be in a pensive mood and not very talkative. That suited Harry just fine and they worked on the day’s assignment in quiet, both their minds wandering elsewhere. Harry didn’t approach Draco, as he still didn’t know what to say but he sure spent a lot of time staring at him, thinking about what to do next.

Harry also spent the lunch break thinking. He sat between Ron and Hermione, looking at Draco at the Slytherin table. He was speaking with Parkinson and Zabini as usual. Occasionally his eyes would dart in Harry’s direction but whenever they made eye contact he would look away immediately, expression blank and giving Harry no clue as to what he was thinking.

It was torture not knowing what to do next. One thing was knowing (or at least suspecting) that Draco wanted him to suffer. It was another thing entirely to figure out what to do actively. A course of action, other than doing nothing, which he wasn’t even certain, was the right approach. Doing nothing, that is… Harry wasn’t good at doing nothing.

He kept trying to convince himself that Draco going away over Christmas and Harry staying at Hogwarts was a good thing as it would give Draco a chance to calm down a little and perhaps even miss Harry. On the other hand, the two of them being apart over Christmas could also give Draco a chance to work himself into a temper. Or worse: _not_ miss Harry. And tomorrow Draco would leave on the Hogwarts Express and be gone for two whole weeks, left to his own thoughts, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Harry felt that it was safe to say that the cogs of the machine that was Harry’s head were on overdrive and in danger of crashing with all the over-thinking and interpreting he had been doing lately, and he told Ron so during Divination where they were trying to determine how each other’s Christmases were going to be based on a crumpled up piece of parchment. It didn’t help that Ron’s interpretation of Harry’s parchment promised a dark and woeful Christmas.

_“You’ve developed quite the flair for dramatics,”_ Ron whispered. _“I think Draco’s rubbing off on you.”_ He couldn’t help adding, _“So to speak,”_ and Harry had to suppress an involuntary snicker that would have been highly inappropriate under the circumstances.

_“Yeah, well, sometimes dramatizing things makes them easier to swallow. I think,”_ Harry whispered back.

_“And sometimes it makes everything worse,”_ Ron answered.

_“Yeah, well…”_ Harry whispered and sighed deeply. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry’s overly dramatic sigh.

It wasn’t Harry’s intention to be over dramatic about things. He didn’t even think it suited him very well – it was more of a Draco-thing – but there wasn’t much he was able to do about it. It just sort of came to him naturally.

 

He spent the time between their last class of the day and supper on his bed, both curtains and eyes closed, trying to meditate himself into a trance in hopes of achieving some sort of deeper enlightenment that might help him find an answer. It didn’t work.

Instead, in his relatively relaxed state of mind he almost automatically began trailing his hand up and down his chest, occasionally brushing over a nipple. Eventually, inevitably really, his hand slid into his trousers. He unbuttoned them with his free hand and momentarily removed his hand from his cock to pull them down over his buttocks, freeing his cock.

He summoned his lube and poured out a dollop into his hand. It was cold, so he rubbed his hands together to warm it before he took his cock in hand and began working it in long, slow strokes.

After a few strokes he shook off his trousers entirely. He bent his knees and spread his legs wide.

His eyes drifted towards his bedside table where his new acquisition lay, tucked away in a drawer, still untouched.

Harry removed his hand from his cock and reached into the drawer to get out the plug and remote.

Even though the drapes were shut tight, Harry looked to both sides as if making sure no one was observing him. His heart was pounding faster as he thought about the best way to do this.

Eventually he placed the toy next to him on the bed and assumed his previous position, lying comfortably on his bag, knees bent and legs spread wide. He lubed up both hands, then took hold of his cock with one hand while he moved the other downwards to prod at his back entrance. He closed his eyes as he circled the hole with his middle finger, pushing at it gently. His finger breached the hole and he slid it in as best he could in the slightly awkward angle. He fingered himself like that for a while, using only one finger before adding another.

He let go of his cock as to not risk coming before he had got a chance to use the plug.

Two fingers inserted in his arse, Harry began making scissoring movements to stretch himself. After a while he deemed himself ready to try his new toy. Even though he had used plenty of lube, he decided to coat the plug in the slippery stuff as well. Just to make sure. He took a last look at the thing before he moved it down between his legs.

Harry’s face was scrunched up in concentration and he was biting his lower lip as he used the plug to put pressure on his tight hole to get it in a little at a time.

When it was finally fully sheathed in his tightness he was still able to feel the plate-shaped flanged end between his buttocks and he couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him at the hilarity of the situation. Had anyone tried to tell him at the start of term that barely four months from then, he would be lying with a vibrating rubber toy up his arse, imagining it being Draco Malfoy’s cock, he would have had them admitted at St. Mungo’s.

“Harry, are you okay? Why are you giggling.” Ron’s voice sounded from outside the drapes, drawing Harry’s attention to his lack of silencing spell.

“Fine, thanks,” Harry answered, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him that he never ever seemed to be able to cast it right, or just plain forgot to cast one in the first place. He rolled his eyes at himself as he cast one. Then he screamed _‘Help’_ , just to make sure it worked, and when no one reacted to his screams, he was satisfied that the spell was functioning correctly. He suddenly thought about the fact that he hadn’t considered what he would have done if his shouts had been heard and someone had decided to come barging in to save him from whatever menace could possibly be in his bed. Then he shook his head, discarding the thought.

Silencing spell in place and plug fully inserted, he settled back on his back, cock in hand. He let himself really feel the pressure from the plug inside him and revelled in the feeling. It didn’t quite hit his prostate but was close enough to graze it if Harry wriggled in the right direction, making his eyes flutter shut and eliciting soft deep noises from the back of his throat.

Stroking his shaft with one hand he reached to take hold of the remote control. He opened one eye to study the buttons and pushed one down, causing a slight barely-there vibration. Despite the lightness of the vibration it still sent little shocks of pleasure through his body and shivers up his spine.

He worked his hand up and down his shaft as he clicked the button to turn up the force of the vibrations.

A small whimper escaped Harry at the feeling of the increased speed, and his hand sped up its pace on its own volition. A small bead of sweat trickled down Harry’s thigh from the crook of his knee.

Images of Draco swam by. Harry imagined himself burying his tongue in Draco’s tight arse, his hands on his buttocks. He imagined Draco’s sexy little whimpers, brought on by Harry’s tongue. He imagined his cock in Draco’s mouth, hands buried in his hair and Draco’s fingers pounding in and out of his tight arse.

By the time Harry reached the max force of the vibration he was practically thrashing on the bed, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his whole body flushed and his heartbeat so fast and hard he could feel it in his ears. He was gasping, and his hand was moving so fast on his cock that it was a blur.

Having reached max volume he placed the remote control on his bed and reached down to squeeze and massage his balls with his now free hand.

Unable to control the noises escaping him Harry moaned, groaned, hissed and whimpered loudly, until finally, he let go a loud, strangled _‘Fuck’_ as he arched his back, and ropes of thick white fluids painted his stomach and chest.

He rode out his orgasm and then grasped for the remote control to turn off the vibrations which were now slightly painful to his overstimulated prostate. He carefully removed the plug and stretched out on the bed, still sweaty and panting from the exertions.

He lifted his hands to wipe the sweat-sticky fringe from his forehead, and was surprised at just how wet his hand came back.

After a few more moments of just lying on his back in post-orgasmic bliss, Harry reached for his wand and cast a cleaning spell on himself, removing the sperm from his stomach and chest. He cast another cleaning spell on the plug and put it back in the drawer along with the remote control.

He couldn’t help grinning as he laid there, his body rapidly cooling off. He barely moved until it was time for supper.

When he exited his bed he was met with a knowing gaze from Seamus who seemed to have an idea of the meaning of the goofy grin that was plastered on Harry’s face and of the flush to his face that was still visible.

Ignoring Seamus’ snickers, Harry went down for supper sated and satisfied. His frustrated, melancholic, annoyed and maudlin state, however, returned as he, positioned next to Hermione and across from Dean and Neville, had a clear view of the Slytherin table and a certain Slytherin in particular, bringing all that was wrong with the world back to the forefront of his mind.

That is, he _had_ a view of Draco, until Ginny came up and squeezed herself in between Dean and Neville. Neville choked a little on a piece of meat as she sat down, and Harry directed his attention to prodding a mountain of string beans Hermione had put on his plate without asking along with a huge piece of steak and kidney pie and a couple of potatoes. He didn’t want to intrude on what would most likely be a private moment between the two. For Neville’s sake. He couldn’t care less about Ginny at the moment. The girl who had ruined his whatever-it-was with Draco before it even had a chance to properly begin. As he sat thinking about Ginny and her misdeeds, he worked himself up more and more until he was practically gritting his teeth, just wishing her away.

“Harry?” Ginny said carefully.

“What?” Harry spat.

“I think we should talk,” Ginny answered seriously. “I think we have unresolved issues.” She reached across the table and put her hand on his. He withdrew it immediately.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry,” she said and withdrew her hand immediately. “I’d really appreciate it if we could talk. I want to apologise.”

“That’s what you said last week. And as I recall that didn’t turn out the way I expected, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you now.”

She looked down, worrying her lip. Then she looked up again, meeting his eyes. “Please?”

Harry looked at her pensively. He was currently in a situation where someone he wanted to talk to and apologise to refused to listen to him and wondered if it wouldn’t be hypocritical of him to do the same to Ginny. He’d certainly been called a hypocrite often enough. And perhaps talking to Ginny would show Draco that Harry was making an effort to change.

He looked to his side at Hermione and Ron who were both observing him, their expressions giving no clue as to whether they thought it was a good idea or not to listen to her.

Then he looked at Neville and Dean to try to determine what he should do, but Dean just shrugged and Neville was sitting completely frozen, looking intently at his almost empty plate with a rather hard grip on his fork.

Harry looked back at Ginny who was staring at him pleadingly.

“Fine,” he said and got up. “We might as well get it over with.”

They went through the Great Hall together.

*

As Draco watched Harry and the Weaselette leave the Great Hall together, he froze up, his mouth open and his fork mid-air, carrying the small piece of chicken he had been about to eat.

After a few moments, during which Draco did nothing but sit and stare at the exit in silent disbelief, Pansy, who was sitting next to him, gently removed the fork from his hand and put it on his plate and looked at him worriedly.

“Do you want to spy on them?” Pansy asked with concern in her voice. “I’ll help you if you want.”

Draco just looked at her with a mixture of wonder and disbelief painted on his face.

“What the fuck?” He looked to the door where the couple had disappeared from view. Then he looked back at Pansy. “What the _fuck_?” His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared with anger.

“Yes, that’s it, darling. Get angry,” Pansy encouraged.

Draco threw down his fork and got up. As he started walking away he swiped his plate to the floor on purpose and felt a small ounce of relief as he heard the porcelain shatter on the floor, full well knowing that it would most likely earn him a detention and not caring even a little bit.

He stormed out of the Great Hall, giving no illusions as to his current set of mind. Which was furious.

Out of the corner of his eye he vaguely noticed Brown exit her seat to follow him. He had been avoiding her as best he could most of the day and she had, just as persistently, been trying to get to talk to him about his little outing with Hermione the evening prior.

When Draco reached the entrance hall Harry and the Weaselette were nowhere in sight but Draco assumed that they would be going up, either to the Gryffindor Tower or to the 7th years’ common room. He hurried up the stairs. Apparently he had been sitting frozen in his seat for a few minutes longer than he thought, because Harry and the She-weasel had already reached the 7th years’ common room and were standing by Sir Siegfried’s portrait.

They entered the common room and Draco followed them in there.

“ _What the fuck, Potter_ ,” Draco shouted, fuming, as soon as he entered through the portrait hole.

Harry, standing next to the Weaselette by the Gryffindor boys’ dorm, turned around, looking genuinely confused. “What?”

“I can’t believe you, you fucking prick.”

“What did I do now?” Harry asked, eyes wide and confused.

“That’s _twice_!”

“Twice what?” Harry asked, throwing his arms to the sides and sounding even more confused.

“ _Twice that you’ve agreed to hear_ her _out_ ,” he shouted and gestured towards the Weaselette.

“But…” Harry started.

“And how many times did I ask you to talk and you refused? And I didn’t even have anything to be sorry about.”

“But… I was just trying to be less hypocritical,” Harry argued, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco spat and turned to leave.

He could have just gone to his dorm but didn’t feel like being in such close vicinity of Harry and the stupid bitch Weasley. He’d just go to the kitchens or roam the halls or something. Unfortunately, Brown entered at that precise moment, and Draco was torn between moving away from Harry and the Weaselette towards Brown or vice versa.

He decided that moving towards Brown was the easiest solution – he could always hex her if she tried to stop him. Mildly, of course.

“ _Hey_!” Harry said loudly. “Don’t you just come shout at me and then leave. I’ve asked you to talk countless times as well, and you’ve refused me, too. Don’t pin this solely on me.”

“This _is_ on you,” Draco said loudly, poking Harry’s chest with his finger. “This is _your_ fault. I hate you. I fucking _hate_ you. You made me feel things. And you made me think that you felt things, too, and then you just took it all away. So _fuck_ you. And I can’t believe you’re talking to her _again_ when I spent an _entire week_ begging you.”

“I think I’ll just leave you two to it,” the Weaselette said to Draco’s surprise and backed away until she reached the portrait hole. Then she turned around and walked out.

“ _I was trying to act less hypocritical,”_ Harry said loudly. _“Now would you just do the same and quit being such a fucking diva and just fucking talk to me?”_ He looked angry and worked up as if pent up frustration and whichever else emotions were in his head, were trying to get out all at once.

But a diva? Seriously? Who the hell did Harry think he was, talking to Draco like that?

_“Don’t you_ fucking _dare talk to me like that, you fucking twat,”_ he spat.

Harry and Draco sneered at each other. They didn’t notice that several of their fellow 7th years had returned from supper.

_“I’ll talk to you how ever the fuck I fucking like, you fucking fucker,”_ Harry shouted back. _“It’s not like you’re listening to me anyway, so it shouldn’t matter what I call you.”_

_“Oh, come off your high horse, arsehole,”_ Draco retorted.

_“Fuck you,”_ Harry spat.

“Ooh, nice comeback,” Draco said mockingly.

Harry narrowed his eyes and pointed his finger at Draco. “You… It’s… Your just so…”

Draco cocked his head and considered Harry. “How I could have ever had sex with someone so ineloquent is beyond me.”

Brown chose that moment to walk over to the fighting boys to pull at Draco’s sleeve to get his attention. “Dray-Dray, come join me. I’ve missed you so much.” She batted her stupid long eyelashes and pouted.

“ _Dammit, woman. How many times do I have to tell you to_ not. Call me. That?” Draco spat at her.

Harry gasped and put a hand to his chest for theatrics. “Dray-Dray!” Harry said, sounding outraged. “How dare you treat your girlfriend like that?”

“ _Don’t fucking call me that_!” Draco raged.

“Call you what?” Harry asked. “Dray-Dray?”

Draco narrowed his eyes and shoved Harry in the chest with the fingertips of both hands. It wasn’t a hard shove – hardly enough to make Harry shift his feet – it was more like a sort of ‘I dare you-shove’.

And yes; Harry did dare. He raised his hands and shoved Draco right back – also not very hard.

Hermione approached them carefully. “Harry, please…” she said. “Couldn’t you please do this someplace else? This is hardly the best way to work things out.”

Harry didn’t break eye contact with Draco when he answered her. “There’s no problem here, Hermione. Is there, Draco?” And he shoved Draco again, this time a little harder.

“Just let them have their little power display, Granger,” Pansy butted in. “It’s been a while. And they do need _some_ way to relieve the tension. And at least now they’re talking.”

“No problem whatsoever,” Draco agreed, also not breaking eye contact and shoving Harry back, also adding a little force.

Harry shoved back harder. Draco shoved back, too, also harder. Then he kicked Harry’s shin.

_“Fuck, Draco,”_ Harry shouted and cupped his shin. _“Why the shin? You always pick the shin, you unimaginative bastard.”_ Then he swung his fist at Draco and punched him hard across the cheekbone.

Draco cupped his sore cheek. _“Likewise you fucking prick. Or at least switch cheeks once in a while. And might I add; punching me is_ not _the way forward if you want to get me to talk to you.”_

Harry threw out his arms exasperatedly. _“Then tell me what is. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything, just fucking talk to me,_ please _. And don’t you dare tell me one more time to leave you alone, because I fucking can’t. You got under my skin and stayed there, so just…”_ he shouted, cutting himself off at the end.

Draco didn’t answer.

“Draco, please, just let me know what you want. This is _killing_ me,” Harry said quietly.

Draco still didn’t answer. It wasn’t part of some sort of planned reaction – he simply didn’t know what to say. The looked each other in the eyes. Harry’s were as green and stunningly beautiful as ever, filled with emotion.

Draco made a rash decision and moved forward quickly, capturing Harry’s lips with his. In the background he vaguely heard Brown call out ‘ _Dray-Dray’_ and couldn’t care less.

Harry responded to the kiss immediately, opening up his mouth and welcoming Draco’s tongue against his for the first time in nearly two long weeks. There was nothing tentative or sweet or gentle about the kiss. It was a hard, bruising kiss from the moment Draco’s lips met Harry’s. There was biting of lips and clashing of teeth, their tongues battling for power.

Harry was standing with his back against the wall, and Draco pressed up against him. As Draco broke the kiss and tilted his head to suck at the sensitive skin behind Harry’s earlobe, Harry moaned and spun Draco around. Pinning Draco to the wall with his body, Harry took hold of Draco’s wrists and raised them over his head, pinning them firmly to the wall. He then attacked Draco’s neck and jaw, kissing, nibbling, sucking and placing small bites there.

Draco couldn’t help whimpering, and Harry groaned. He let go of Draco’s wrists and slid one arm around Draco’s waist as he fumbled with the other for the door handle. His lips once again met Draco’s, and when he finally got the door open, he pushed Draco backwards, leading him in to the dorm and slamming the door behind them.

Their hands were all over each other. Draco’s hands were already under Harry’s t-shirt, one hand placed firmly on his loin and the other on his chest, brushing over his hardening nipples. Harry worked both his hands down the back of Draco’s slacks and underneath his pants, squeezing his buttocks hard, gaining leverage as their groins pressed against each other.

They frotted against each other, panting into each other’s mouths.

Soon, Harry moved his hands to Draco’s belt buckle and frantically tried to open it. His hands were shaking slightly, which made it difficult and Draco reluctantly removed his hands from Harry’s body to help him. By shared effort they finally managed to unbuckle the belt, and Harry pulled it out of the hoops entirely. He then proceeded to unfasten the clasp of Draco’s slacks and unzip them. They fell to the floor and pooled around his ankles.

Harry kneeled down in front of Draco, pulling down his pants as he went. Draco’s breaths came in shallow gasps as he thought of what was to come. He looked at Harry looking at his cock, which was hard as rock and bobbing up and down from their encounter with the elastic waist band of his pants.

Draco watched Harry through half-lidded eyes and gasped as he stuck out his tongue and gave a tentative lick to the head of Draco’s cock. Draco buried his hands in Harry’s messy hair and fisted his hair. Harry groaned and opened his mouth, taking in Draco’s cock. He sucked it with vigour while tugging lightly at Draco’s balls with one hand and prodding lightly at his back entrance with the middle finger of the other.

Draco was thankful he had already wanked twice that day.

Harry let Draco thrust his hips, working his cock deeper into Harry’s mouth. When one of Draco’s thrusts buried his cock in Harry’s throat, Harry pulled off and looked at Draco, his eyes dark.

“Enough,” he said quietly, and for a second Draco feared that he had crossed some line he wasn’t aware of.

“Take off your shirt,” Harry continued, and Draco relaxed.

He did as told. It was incredibly hot standing in front of Harry completely naked when Harry was still fully dressed.

“Get on your knees on the bed and bend over,” Harry said, his voice erotically husky in a way that Brown would never manage, no matter how hard she practiced.

Draco quickly climbed onto the bed. He stood on his knees in the centre of the bed and bent over, resting his elbows on the bed and his forehead on his forearms, and exposing himself to Harry.

He felt the bed dip as Harry got on and positioned himself behind Draco.

“Spread them,” Harry said, and Draco immediately spread his legs. “Good boy,” Harry said quietly, almost in a whisper to himself.

Harry ran his hands over Draco’s back, down his sides and to his buttocks, which he squeezed hard. He continued running his hands over Draco’s body; his back, his sides, his arse cheeks, his thighs. Occasionally he would bend over a little and run his hands up Draco’s chest to pinch and twist his nipples.

Harry worked Draco’s nipples while he placed open-mouthed, sloppy kissed on his shoulder blades. He ran his hands down Draco’s chest slowly, towards an area of Draco’s anatomy that almost desperately craved attention. The kisses to his back moved downwards in step with his hands’ movement on Draco’s front.

Harry avoided touching Draco’s cock and instead ran his hands outwards to run down the front of Draco’s thighs while pressing kisses to his loins. Draco’s breathing was shallow with anticipation as Harry’s hands moved to the back of his thighs and his kisses moved to Draco’s buttocks.

When Harry’s hands reached Draco’s arse cheeks, he squeezed them lightly before he spread them apart and briefly let a thumb graze the puckered hole.

Draco once again shivered at the thought that he was lying there fully exposed, while Harry was still wearing all his clothes.

It seemed like forever, before anything more happened. After what seemed like an excruciatingly long time Draco felt Harry’s breath ghosting over his hole.

He whimpered at the thought of Harry’s tongue in his arse.

At the sound of Draco’s whimper Harry stuck out his tongue and placed a slow, careful lick from Draco’s balls to the edge of his crevice. It was heaven.

Draco wriggled his arse and pushed backwards slightly as an invitation. He needed more.

Harry placed another slow lick, adding slightly more pressure and Draco whimpered again.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Harry mumbled against his arse.

He spread Draco’s buttocks as wide as was possible before placing a kiss directly on Draco’s entrance. He placed several kisses, pursing his lips. Draco made a deep intake of breath as Harry added his tongue, alternating between flicking it against his hole and prodding at it.

Before long, Harry was full out snogging his arse. Draco removed his head from his forearms and instead grabbed hold of Harry’s pillow, biting into it, trying to contain the sounds that were escaping him.

“Don’t do that,” Harry said, momentarily removing his tongue from Draco’s arse but still speaking against the hole. “I want to hear you.”

Draco tossed the pillow to the side and it fell to the floor. He was still resting on his elbows, his forearms stretched out in front of him and now grasping at the sheets, his hands balling into fists in them, as whimpers and moans escaped him. He would have thought the sounds embarrassing, except they seemed to spur Harry on, making him tongue fuck Draco more urgently.

Harry pointed his tongue and worked it into Draco, wriggling it as much as the tight space allowed, which was gradually more and more as the small hole was slowly worked open further and further.

Draco reached down to grab hold of his aching cock, but before he was able to touch it, Harry removed his tongue from his arse and spoke. “Don’t,” he just said, and waited without further explanation until Draco had withdrawn his hand, before he attacked his hole once more.

Draco was writhing on the bed and pushing his arse backwards to meet Harry’s tongue as he worked it in and out. He briefly wondered how Harry managed to breathe with practically his whole face buried in Draco’s arse but quickly decided that it didn’t really matter, as long as he kept working Draco.

He was unable to keep quiet and keep his sounds in check, feeling every little movement of Harry’s tongue. Sometimes Harry withdrew it and Draco pushed back desperately. Sometimes he flicked his tongue fast several times across Draco’s entrance. Sometimes he sucked at his hole instead of licked, and there was also an occasional nibble. Mostly, though, he simply pointed his tongue and fucked Draco with it.

The stimulation to his arse was so intense it was almost unbearable and he wasn’t even aware of his loud, sobbing whimpers anymore – only the little deep sounds of pleasure that Harry made in the back of his throat as he ate out Draco mattered.

“Harry, _please_ ,” Draco moaned when felt he couldn’t possibly take the intensity of it any longer. Harry withdrew, and Draco exhaled, both in relief and immense disappointment at the loss.

“Are you alright?” Harry gently ran his fingers over Draco’s back as he asked.

“More than alright,” Draco answered truthfully.

“Good.”

Harry stopped trailing patterns on Draco’s back, and Draco heard the unmistakeable sound of a belt being unbuckled. Harry’s belt rattled as he unbuttoned his trousers and finally freed his cock, hard and practically quivering with anticipation. He slicked his cock with a small amount of lube from the bottle he kept in his bedside table.

“Look at you,” Harry said, caressing Draco’s buttocks. “Open for me. Just waiting for my cock to fuck you hard.”

Draco moaned lightly at the words.

Harry adjusted his position behind Draco and lined up against him. “Bear down,” he said, and Draco pushed back, taking Harry’s entire length in one slow movement. Thanks to the thorough tongue fucking Draco was well prepared and the stinging feeling of Harry’s cock stretching Draco’s hole was only pleasure.

When fully sheathed Harry halted, letting Draco adjust to the feeling of being filled out. He put his hands on Draco’s hips and after a few moments slowly started moving.

His thrusts were slow at first but when Draco wriggled his arse to get him to move faster, Harry happily obliged, gradually picking up pace. His grip on Draco’s hips hardened and his thrusts became deeper and harder, and he was pulling Draco back on his prick, meeting his thrusts.

Draco could hear Harry’s belt buckle jingle with every movement – every thrust.

Harry was making little grunting noises in step with his thrusts that were still becoming harder and faster. He let go of Draco’s hips and bent down over Draco, supporting his weight with his hands on the bed, on either side of Draco’s shoulders.

Draco was being pushed forwards by every hard thrust, and he was soon practically lying on his stomach with Harry on top of him, Harry pounding into Draco forcefully. He moved his arse upwards to meet Harry’s cock as best he could and let out a loud moan as he felt a surge of pleasure, when Harry’s prick brushed his prostrate.

As was the case earlier, Draco’s sound of pleasure spurred Harry on and, if possible, thrust into him even harder, angling his thrusts to make sure he hit Draco’s prostate nearly every time.

Draco’s cock was rubbing against the mattress, gaining wonderful friction, as Harry lay on top of him, weighing him down. He had been resting on his elbows but was lying down completely now. His arms were still bent and nestled by his sides. Harry was resting on his elbows now, his elbows positioned next to Draco’s bent arms, holding Draco firmly in place. Harry’s lower arms were lined up against Draco’s, and Harry moved his hands to Draco’s, his palms against the back of Draco’s hands, and entwining their fingers like that.

Harry’s weight on top of Draco, his strong arms tight around him and their fingers entwined meant that Draco was basically restrained. And it felt fan-fucking-tastic. Safe.

He imagined what they might look like at that moment; Draco stark naked on the bed, held in place by Harry, whose only level of undress was a pair of unbuttoned trousers. In his mind’s eye, it looked hot as hell.

“OhfuckohMerlinohgod,” Draco whimpered as he pushed back to meet Harry to the best of his ability and Harry’s grunts of _‘uh-uh-uh’_ became accordingly louder.

At one point Harry’s thrusts slowed down. “You like this, don’t you?” he said in a low voice. “Being held down by me.”

“Yes,” Draco whimpered breathlessly.

“Call me Mr. Potter,” Harry demanded breathlessly.

Draco whimpered again. “Yes, Mr. Potter.”

Harry made a soft sound at the back of his throat at Draco’s words.

“Tell me how you want it.”

“Harder,” Draco said immediately. “Please fuck me harder, Mr. Potter.”

Harry obliged, deepening the force of his thrusts.

“And f-faster,” Draco added.

“Faster, what?” Harry said without picking up pace.

“Faster please, Mr. Potter,” Draco quickly corrected and Harry upped the speed.

The bed was slamming into the wall at every thrust and Draco had begun moaning loudly. Some might call it keening. Draco wasn’t one of them.

Draco could tell that Harry was close as the rhythm of his thrusts became erratic. He was close himself, his cock rubbing against the sheets with each thrust Harry made.

Draco felt Harry’s breath on his ear, his lips grazing it as his pounding became frantic.

_“Mine,”_ he growled and moved his mouth from Draco’s ear to his nape and bit down, claiming him.

Harry’s growl and the feeling of his teeth in Draco’s flesh pushed Draco over the edge and he came hard with a strained, hoarse moan, his come warm against his stomach. His arse constricted around Harry’s cock and after e few more deep thrusts, Harry let out a guttural moan as he emptied himself inside Draco.

*

Spent, Harry collapsed on top of Draco, who let him rest there, catching his breath for a few moments until he became too heavy.

“Off,” he said, and Harry rolled off, his cock exiting Draco with a squelching sound, allowing the warm, sticky liquids to trickle out.

Harry lay on his back next to Draco who was still lying on his stomach. After a few moments of them catching their breath and recovering from their post-orgasmic high, Harry turned to his side. Draco followed his example.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, looking at Draco with big, earnest eyes.

Draco frowned. “Why? It’s not like you forced me. I’m not some helpless damsel, you know.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I meant about the other thing. The whole… _thing_ …”

“Oh,” Draco said. “I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

Harry smiled – a deep and sincere smile. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t need to anymore,” Draco answered and was rewarded with another smile.

“Turn around,” Harry said, and Draco raised his eyebrows at the demand.

“Seriously? Again? Already?”

Harry chuckled, and he noticed a small smile form on Draco’s lips at the sound. “No,” he said, grinning. “Turn over and I’ll spoon you. I’ll stroke your hair and nuzzle your back and do whatever else you demand of me.”

Draco turned around and scooted backwards, closer to Harry. Harry didn’t stroke his hair or nuzzle his back. Instead he put his arm around Draco, pulling him even closer, and started trailing patterns on his chest. Then he buried his nose in Draco’s hair. And fuck, had he missed that scent.

Draco sighed with contentment. “It’s good to have you back and ready to serve, my creepy hair-sniffing minion.”

Harry chuckled. “Likewise, Your Majesty.” Harry smiled against the nape of Draco’s neck, before he sniffed in deeply, taking in the scent of his hair and not caring even a little bit whether it was creepy or not.

“Hey, Draco?” Harry asked after a while in comfortable silence.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to be my boyfriend? Please?” Harry couldn’t keep the uncertainty from his voice as he asked, even though they _had_ just had the most amazing make-up sex ever.

 “Yes I would,” Draco answered, and Harry smiled and placed a kiss on Draco’s nape, giving him a squeeze with the arm he had draped over him.

“I’m afraid I’m going to insist that you break it off with Lavender,” Harry said. “I don’t want to share.”

“Oh shit, Brown,” Draco said and rubbed his forehead with his hand as he sat up. “I forgot about her.” He groaned. “How am I ever going to get rid of her? She just won’t take a hint.”

“I hate seeing you with her,” Harry said, frowning.

“I hate being with her,” Draco answered. “It’s just proven harder to get rid of her than I imagined.”

“You still need to, though,” Harry said. He had moved from his side to his back as Draco sat up. Draco slumped down next to him again, also on his back.

Draco snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Harry looked to the side, surprised by Draco’s words. “Exactly how much muggle literature do you know?” he asked.

“Well,” Draco said and began counting on his fingers. “I read all of Jane Austen’s works and all the Sherlock Holmes novels. I read ‘The Hobbit’ by Tolkien and all the ‘Inspector Morse’ novels. That’s it, I think. I like the crime novels. I like trying to figure out who did it before the detective does.”

Harry would have liked to ask how Draco had managed to keep his reading habits from his father but refrained from it. “Anyway; Lavender,” he said instead, getting back on track.

“Right,” Draco said and frowned.

“Don’t you think she may take the hint after seeing us snogging each other silly and then disappearing in here?” Harry asked.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Draco answered drily. Then he wrinkled his nose. “I’m lying in sperm,” he said and moved away from the sticky spot on the sheet that he had been lying on.

Harry grinned. “Well, we could always take a shower later, if you want.”

Draco cocked his head and smiled. “I wouldn’t be averse to it.” Then he picked up his wand from the floor and cleaned himself up, front and back. He started getting dressed.

Harry’s eyes widened and he suddenly realised something. “Oh shit,” he said. “We didn’t close the curtains. Thank god no one walked in on us.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “They’d be incredibly stupid to,” he said. “There were people in the common room when we went in here, and I think it was pretty obvious where things were headed. And adding to that, I didn’t cast a silencing charm and knowing you, you most likely didn’t either, so…”

Harry groaned. “Ron’s going to kill me.”

“He’ll have to go through me first,” Draco said. “And I’m faster than him, so you should be safe for now.”

Harry smiled. “My hero.”

When Draco’s clothes were back on, they stood in front of each other, quiet for a few moments.

“I really am sorry, you know,” Harry said.

“I know,” Draco said. “And I really do forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said and meant it deeply. Then he pulled Draco in for a kiss.

Harry didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, but eventually they broke apart. There was an important thing to get done before Draco would truly be his.

“Be nice,” Harry said, referring to the fact that Draco was about to break it off with Lavender.

Draco shrugged. “I’ll be as nice as I possibly can while still making her understand that things are over.”

“Right,” Harry said, not entirely reassured.

They opened the door to the common room. Their fellow 7th years were sitting in the usual circle, playing the usual Friday night game.

_“Dray-Dray,”_ Lavender’s shrill voice sounded as she called out to him. Next to Harry Draco flinched. “Come join the game,” she said and patted the floor. Every eye in the common room was directed at either Draco, Harry or Lavender.

Draco looked at her, incredulously, brows raised. Then he frowned. “Are you mentally challenged?” he asked.

_“Draco,”_ Harry hissed and elbowed him in the ribs.

“What do you mean, Draco?” Lavender asked.

“I mean, is there something wrong with your head?” Draco asked. “I just had sex with someone else. You should be furious.”

“But you didn’t mean it,” Lavender answered, not really making any sense to Harry.

“Yes I did,” Draco said to her. “And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t because it still happened. But I did mean it very much. I also mean it very much when I say that I don’t like you.” (Lavender gasped and held a hand to her chest, her eyes wide.) “I only asked you out to piss off Harry and then you just sort of stuck. Like a leach.”

_“Draco!”_ Harry hissed again and elbowed him a little harder.

Lavender narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you…? Are you breaking up with me?”

_“Yes,”_ Draco said loudly in relief. _“Finally!_ I’ve been trying to do it the entire week. You just won’t take a hint.”

“But…” Lavender said. “Why didn’t you just say it?”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “I’ve been telling you to fuck off for days. What more do you need?”

Lavender stood up. “How about the words _‘I break up with you’_ , you bastard?”

Draco crossed his arms across his chest. “That would indicate that we were in a relationship, which we most definitely weren’t.”

Lavender narrowed her eyes further. Then she looked at Harry. “I pity you, Harry,” she said. “Draco obviously has relationship and commitment issues.” She huffed. “And you…” (she looked at Parkinson) “… will _never_ be pretty.” Then she looked back at Draco. “Shame on you, Draco.” She raised her chin and stalked off towards her dorm.

“Yes, shame on you, Draco,” Zabini said, his words and eager facial expression clashing violently, and stalked after her. The door slammed behind them.

_“Finally!”_ Parkinson exclaimed loudly.

“So…” Hannah said. “You want to join the game? It’s Never Have I Ever.”

“No thank you,” Harry said. “I think we’ll take advantage of the fact that most of you are out here so we can have the shower to ourselves.” Then he looked at Draco. “Are you up for it?” he asked quietly.

Draco smirked as answer.

Parkinson snickered. “It’s good to have you back, Potter, you perve.”

Harry didn’t know what to answer to that and so said nothing.

Just then, the door to the Gryffindor girls’ dorm opened and Ron and Hermione came storming out and slammed the door behind them. Ron had a green tinge to his face colour.

“I just saw Zabini’s naked arse,” he said, looking at Harry in wonder. “They’re almost worse than you guys,” Harry didn’t need to ask what he meant. He just grinned.

The rest of the students went back to playing their game. When they realised the show was over.

“So,” Hermione said, “are you two together again then?”

Harry and Draco looked at each other and both smiled. “Yes,” Harry said.

“Oh, and by the way,” Ron said. “I took the liberty of casting a silencing charm after you went to the dorm. Just in case, you know?”

“Good thinking there,” Draco said. “How did you do it from outside?”

“I didn’t,” Ron said apologetically, wrinkling his nose. “I opened the door a bit and just slipped my wand inside.”

Draco snickered. “Perve.”

“Thank you, Ron,” Harry corrected.

“Great. And now all that is in order, come along and get your gorgeous arse in the shower so I can ravish you again and again,” Draco said, making Ron splutter and Hermione and Harry blush.

Draco started moving to the Gryffindor boys’ dorm, pulling Harry with him. Before entering the door he called over his shoulder. “Hey, Hermione. Nice arse, wasn’t it? Blaise’s I mean.”

This time Hermione spluttered as well as Ron.

 

Harry and Draco stood in the shower, the water cascading over them. They kissed. And kissed. And then they kissed some more. They had their arms around each other and were standing flush up against each other. It was unavoidable, really, that Harry felt his cock rapidly hardening and noticed Draco’s doing the same.

Harry licked along Draco’s jaw and nibbled at his earlobe. “I can’t help but feel that your cock has been neglected tonight.” He moved his fingers along the shaft. Then he went to his knees. “Have you been neglected?” he asked.

“Are you talking to my penis, Harry?” Draco said, sounding amused.

“Shut up, Draco, I’m having a very important discussion with the Little Master.” Harry thought back to the conversation with Dobby where he had revealed that Draco was his ‘Little Master’, before he was freed.

Draco groaned. “Ugh, I _knew_ it was only a matter of time before you named it that, you prick.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, his lips moving against the head. “Can’t be undone now. Now quit interrupting us.”

Draco laughed as Harry put his ear close to Draco’s ‘Little Master’ and pretended to listen to what it had to say.

“Does he have anything interesting to say?” Draco asked, amused.

“Oh, absolutely,” Harry said. “He says that he _does_ feel neglected and I should let you fuck my mouth as hard and deep as you want.” He placed a small lick on the slit.

Draco gasped. “Clever one, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Harry agreed and opened up, letting Draco fist his hands into Harry’s hair and bury his cock in his mouth.

Draco worked his cock in and out of Harry’s mouth shallowly and carefully at first, then gradually deepened his thrusts until he picked up a rhythm, alternating between shallow trusts and deep thrusts where he buried his entire length in Harry’s mouth and throat. Harry gagged but found it incredibly erotic to know that Draco’s cock was sliding in and out of his tight throat.

Harry’s one hand was lightly squeezing Draco’s balls, once in a while stroking his perineum. He let his other hand drop between his own legs and took hold of his own hard prick. He stroked fast up and down it, pumping it in the same rhythm as Draco’s thrusts into his mouth, moaning when possible.

It didn’t take long for him to come, the white liquid spilling into his hand and washing away immediately. Having taken care of himself he moved his now free hand behind Draco. He let his fingers slide into the crevice and let his middle finger enter him. Draco moaned loudly and, as Harry inserted another digit, began bucking his hips wildly. When Harry’s fingers found Draco’s prostate and began massaging it, it lasted only seconds before Draco pumped his come down Harry’s throat, his hands holding Harry’s head in place until he was done.

 

Later, when they were lying next to each other on their sides in Harry’s bed, Harry sighed. “I’m really going to miss you these next couple of weeks.”

“About that,” Draco said, “would you mind terribly celebrating Christmas with me and my mother? I sort of already wrote to her to tell her to ignore your owl.”

Harry was surprised. “When did you manage that? We’ve been together since we made up.”

“I sent it earlier today,” Draco admitted. “Before lunch. I had a feeling we’d make up. So what do you say?”

Harry smiled. “I’d love to celebrate Christmas with you.”

“Good,” Draco smiled back. Then he turned around and moved backwards towards Harry, snuggling close to him. “Now stroke my hair.”

Harry chuckled. “Right away, your majesty.”

They both went to sleep smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually going to end the story when they got back together, but I can't very well skip Christmas, now can I? So there's going to be at least one more chapter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop; it's done, finally, and only half a year late (blushes). I've been suffering a severe bout of writer's block plus had an insanely busy time both at work and privately. But here it is.  
> I thank you all sincerely for reading, commenting and showing your appreciation. I hope you will enjoy this last chapter.  
> Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> Oh, and P.S. If anyone has some genius suggestions for another Title (though most likely I'll just stick with this one) and the unnamed chapters, please let me know.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.

Chapter 18:

**21 st December (Saturday)**

_“Draco.”_

Draco turned in the direction of the sound of someone calling his name. “You _have_ to be kidding me,” Draco said as he watched Brown coming towards him as they stood waiting to board the Hogwarts Express.

Harry looked in the direction Draco was looking. “You don’t think she still didn’t get it, do you?”

“I don’t know. She does seem like someone who needs to hear things twice.”

“Listen to you being all nice, underplaying things,” Harry said with a smile, nudging Draco’s shoulder with his. “Since you’re already being nice, you should apologise to her for using her.”

Draco frowned at him.

“Hi, Draco,” Brown said as she approached him and stopped directly in front of him. She lifted her hand and laid her palm on his chest. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. For a moment Draco feared she was going to kiss him. Or cry. Or a combination of the two. Either was as bad as the other.

“I wanted to give you this,” she continued as she held out her hand and presented a small square package wrapped in glossy pink paper with a black velvet bow.

“Why?” Draco asked suspiciously, frowning, as he held the small package between his thumb and index finger, considering it carefully. He wondered if Brown was the type to hold a grudge and in that case, if the paper, bow or content might be poisoned or explosive. He figured she probably _was_ the type to hold grudges and held the package a bit further away from his body.

Brown giggled and put her other palm on his chest as well. “It’s not poisoned, silly billy.”

“Right…” Draco said slowly, still looking sceptical.

Brown’s eyes widened even further and she suddenly looked very serious. In a weird ‘un-serious’, almost comical way. “It’s your Christmas present. I want you to have it. Something to remember me by. To remember _us_ by,” she whispered theatrically.

Next to Draco, Harry half coughed half snorted in his attempt to hide a laugh.

“Right…” Draco said again. “I didn’t get you anything,” he continued, not feeling the least bit guilty.

A fleeting look of disappointment showed on Brown’s face but was gone in an instant. She nodded. “This shows that you and I are not meant to be,” she said solemnly.

“The fact that I didn’t get you anything shows that we’re not meant to be?” Draco asked incredulously.

Brown nodded.

“Not that I slept with someone else, that you then cleverly deduced that I didn’t want to be with you, that _you_ then slept with someone else, and just the plain fact that I don’t like you?”

Brown closed her eyes and shook her head as she sighed deeply. “I pity you, Draco.”

Then she turned and skipped in the direction of Blaise who was standing next to a 6th year (Ravenclaw, Draco thought), flirting shamelessly.

Blaise turned around as Brown called out his name. His eyes widened for the briefest of moments in what Draco thought he recognised as horrified surprise, before he caught Draco’s eyes and winked, then greeted Brown with a snog completely inappropriate for their current location on the platform.

The 6th year Ravenclaw looked deeply insulted and turned to join her friends who were soon all huddled together, whispering animatedly and scowling at Blaise.

“You didn’t apologise,” Harry chastised.

“It would only confuse her,” Draco answered. Harry rolled his eyes.

“By the way,” Draco said, changing the subject, “I expect us to sit with my friends on the train.”

“But I already planned for us to sit with Ron and Hermione,” Harry said.

“No way,” Draco said. “They’re coming over Christmas Eve. I’m not seeing any of my friends for the entire holiday.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You could have just invited them.”

“I seriously hope you don’t consider me that rude.”

“Rude?” Harry looked confused. “You think it’s rude to invite people over for Christmas?”

“But it’s _your_ _house_ ,” Draco explained.

“But _you_ _live_ there,” Harry argued back.

“No I don’t. I live at Hogwarts. My _mother_ lives there.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“We’re not sitting with your friends, Harry.”

“ _Enough_ ,” someone said, interrupting their bickering. “We’re all sitting together.”

Both Harry and Draco looked in the direction of the speaker.

Hermione stood next to Ron and Pansy with her hands on her hips.

“We figured you’d probably start arguing about it at some point, so we decided to just sit together,” Pansy said.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well then that’s settled.”

And on that note they boarded the train.

They found a compartment at the back of the train. Hermione and Ron sat next to each other on one side and Harry, Draco and Pansy occupied the other.

“This is so weird,” Pansy said, considering Ron and Hermione warily.

“I think it’s nice,” Hermione answered with a smile.  “It’s nice to get along.”

“Just to be clear, Granger,” Pansy replied, “We’re not getting along. We’re sitting together in the same compartment because our respective friends happen to be dating and are incapable of finding solutions to the simplest of problems by themselves. And by the way, I blame Potter for that. Draco was perfectly sensible before he was ‘Pottered’.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry answered indignantly.

“All right, then,” Hermione replied, still smiling and choosing not to comment on the insults. “Sitting together amicably, making pleasant small talk.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and muttered something about Hermione belonging in Hufflepuff.

“Where’s Blaise?” Draco asked as the train started moving. “I thought he would be sitting with us as well.”

“He said something about wanting to do a ‘Potter’ before he joined us,” Pansy answered without looking up from the magazine she was currently reading.

“ _’Do a Potter’_?” Ron said, both eyebrows raised. “That sounds seriously disturbing.”

“What’s a ‘Potter’?” Harry asked, frowning and looking slightly worried.

Before Pansy was able to answer, Hermione was already speaking. “It’s obviously sex on a train, Harry. Right, Pansy?” Harry blushed.

“It is,” Pansy said, looking up from her magazine. “How did _you_ know? I thought it was just me and Blaise who called it that.”

“Well, since we’re _on_ a train and the most recent thing Harry is known for involving a train that would be interesting for others to do, is having sex in an empty compartment. So…”

“Well done, Granger,” Parkinson said and nodded.

Harry blushed and scowled. “Not exactly the most flattering thing to have named after you.”

“Then perhaps next time don’t get caught,” Pansy said, her eyes once again focusing on the piece of gossip she was currently devouring – something about one of the Holyhead Harpies being caught in some compromising position in a certain kind of club, from what Harry gathered from the glimpse he had of the title of the article.

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at Draco with an accusing look. Draco smirked at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Harry. It’s not my fault you’re a horny bugger with no self-control.”

“And you’re a nosy git.”

“But a pretty one,” Draco felt a need to point out. He turned his head to look at Harry, grinning.

“Very pretty,” Harry agreed and grinned back. Then he leaned in and closed his eyes, capturing Draco’s lips with his.

Right then the compartment door slid open and Blaise stepped in, looking sated and smug. Grinning, he took the empty seat right next to Hermione and let out a content sigh.

“From the look on your face everything went to your satisfaction,” Pansy said.

“I’d say so,” Blaise said, still grinning.

“How did you manage to get away?” Draco asked curiously.

“I just told her thank you for the Potter. Then I left.”

Harry groaned at the revelation that _‘a Potter’_ would most likely be a real thing before the train ride was over.

“Lucky bastard,” Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at Blaise, and Blaise grinned at him smugly. Not that he wanted Blaise to be stuck with Brown, obviously – it just would have been nice if he’d had at least _some_ difficulty getting away from her.

Blaise sighed as he leaned back. “I like Pottering.”

“Please don’t call it that,” Harry said, sounding slightly queasy.

Blaise laughed.

Draco turned towards Harry again. “I think it’s kind of hot that you’ve had a shag named after you.”

“Yeah?” Harry turned to look at Draco, grinning now, and his gaze immediately fell on Draco’s lips. He leaned in again and lightly grazed Draco’s lips with his. Draco responded eagerly, parting his lips and letting Harry’s tongue slip inside.

Pansy cleared her throat loudly. “Right! With your tendency to inappropriate behaviour in public I’m going to have to put my foot down. No snogging. And Potter and Blaise; switch seats.”

Draco and Harry simultaneously began protesting.

“I don’t know, Pansy,” Blaise said, grinning and snaking his arm along the backrest behind Hermione, putting his arm around her, “I’m rather comfortable here.” He put on his most charming smile as he grinned and winked at Hermione who blushed and moved slightly closer to Ron.

Ron narrowed his eyes at Blaise. “Harry, you’re swapping seats with Zabini.”

Blaise and Pansy snickered, as Harry acquiesced, groaning.

For a while the occupants of the compartment sat in silence, Draco and Harry sulking, Blaise leaning back with his eyes closed and a small smile plastered on his face, Pansy reading her gossip magazine, Hermione going through her bag for some book or other, and Ron casting not-so-subtle glances in Hermione’s direction every now and then.

“So…” Ron said quietly from across Draco’s seat. He looked at Hermione. “You think it would be interesting doing a ‘Potter’?” The interest in his voice was audible. Ron obviously tried to lower his voice enough for it to be discreet, but seeing as there were barely three feet’s space between Draco’s seat and Ron and Hermione’s, and everyone else was quiet, it came across as anything but.

“I wouldn’t be averse to it,” Hermione said absently as she shuffled through her bag.

Ron shifted in his seat. “So…”

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. “Obviously not now, Ronald. You’re hardly subtle, are you?” she said sternly, and Ron looked visibly put out.

“Do you mind?” Harry asked, blushing and looking uncomfortable. “I rather prefer not thinking about you two doing _it_. Seeing it once was enough to last me a life time.”

Ron snorted, quite rightly, Draco thought, as Ron (among several others) had been subjected to Harry’s sex life on several occasions.

Pansy looked up with renewed interest. She looked at Harry sitting across her. “You watched them having sex? I thought you only watched _us_ having sex.” She pouted and looked quite insulted.

Harry spluttered. “I did not _watch_ them have sex. I happened upon them by accident. It was deeply disturbing and I’ll most likely be scarred for life.”

“You almost sound as dramatic as Draco now,” Pansy said. “He must be rubbing off on you. So to speak.” She smirked at Harry who blushed again, but still wasn’t able to keep his lips from quirking up slightly.

Ron disregarded Harry’s answer and instead asked Pansy, “You knew he was watching you?”

“Of course.” She raised an eyebrow and directed her smirk at Ron. “You should try it sometime. I’m sure Potter wouldn’t mind lending an eye.”

“ _My god, enough with the sex talk,_ ” Harry snapped as Pansy, Blaise and Draco erupted in snickers, while the Gryffindor trio all lost control of their facial colour.

For a short while the six students succumbed to silence.

“Am I the only one doing any studying?” Hermione asked, looking up at the other five students with an accusing look in her eyes.

“Looks like it,” Blaise said as no-one moved to do the opposite.

Hermione huffed and glared at Ron until he sighed and retrieved a book from her bag, opened it and started reading. From the glazed over look in his eyes, he was pretending, but Hermione seemed satisfied.

The train was rocking lightly. Draco could feel the thrumming of the engine going through his body. He looked at Harry and found him looking back.

A sudden thought came to Draco.

“Harry, Hermione is right. We should get ahead with our homework.” Draco hadn’t brought something as common as a bag or rucksack with him but looked through Harry’s, pulling out two books, parchment and a quill. “Here,” he said, thrusting a book, parchment and the quill into Harry’s hands. “Start the essay on recognising and distinguishing good and bad preparation in green herbs.”

Harry looked startled and surprised as he accepted the book, parchment and quill. Draco turned to Hermione who was looking up, pleased with the development.

“I trust you have a spare quill, Hermione?”

“Of course,” she said and found a spare from her bag.

Draco took the quill and started writing, using the book as support for the parchment. He put his quill to the paper.

*

Harry sat in silent surprise after Draco had given him the order to start writing his essay. After a couple of moments of Draco concentrating on his own parchment he shrugged to himself. He moved to do the same as Draco and use the book as support for his parchment.

_‘Hey.’_

The small word was written on his parchment, and Harry smiled to himself.

 _‘Hey,’_ he wrote back.

_‘So, this is odd.’_

_‘Odd? You started it…’_ Harry thought it odd that Draco would start off a written conversation with stating that it was odd.

 _‘Not this, dimwit,’_ the parchment wrote back. Harry could easily imagine Draco’s eyes rolling as he wrote it. _I meant the situation – all of us sitting here together without anyone throwing hexes or insults.’_

 _‘Oh that. Yeah, super weird,”_ Harry replied. _‘But nice.’_

_‘You would call it that. Gryffindor.’_

Harry grinned, and wrote, _‘Thank you.’_

 _‘You should know I’m rolling my eyes,’_ Draco wrote.

_‘I can imagine. By the way, have you told your mother about us yet?’_

_‘Not yet. I was thinking we could do it together if you want to.’_

_‘I’d actually rather if we didn’t mention it to her just yet.’_

_‘Why?_ You _asked_ me _to be_ your _boyfriend. Changed your mind already?’_

_‘No! It’s just… I want her to like me first.’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘I just don’t want her to feel obligated to like me because I’m dating her son. Or the opposite.’_

_‘Opposite?’_

_‘Yeah, you know – that stereotype where the girl’s father hates the boyfriend on principle.’_

_‘Ok, one: I’m not a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed. Two: My mother isn’t my father. Three: My father_ does _hate you. And isn’t it also common for the mother to like the boyfriend even though the father doesn’t?’_

_‘One: I noticed. Two: I know. Three: Point taken. And yes, I suppose it is. It just really means a lot to me that she likes me before I identify myself as the one boning her son.’_

  _‘Fine. Though if you want her to like you I wouldn’t mention boning. At all.’_

Harry grinned. _‘Thank you. I won’t mention boning. I’m looking forward to meeting her.’_

_‘Me too. I wonder if I’ll even be able to recognise her with all her playing around with Weasleys and Aurors and buying muggle contraptions.’_

_‘And cooking,’_ Harry added.

_‘That too.’_

_‘I only saw your mother twice but it’s hard to imagine her in an apron.’_

_‘Ugh. Don’t even say it. Malfoys don’t belong on kitchen duty. It’s undignified.’_

_‘Hey! I’ll have you know I spent a lot of my childhood on kitchen duty.’_

_‘And was it dignifying?’_

_‘Well, no. But there’s nothing wrong with being able to cook.’_

_‘This conversation is ridiculous. Write your essay.’_

Harry’s brows rose. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yes,” Draco answered, and at Harry’s puzzled and incredulous look, leaned forward and continued, “Harry, you don’t even know the difference between a Driopteris Filix-mas Fern and a Self Lady Fern.”

Hermione’s head snapped up immediately, her eyes wide and accusing. “Harry, that could be seriously dangerous. What if you had to use one of them in a potion and took the wrong one?”

Next to him Ron leaned in and whispered, “There are different kinds of ferns?”

Harry shrugged and Hermione gasped. She rummaged through her bag determinedly until she withdrew a book similar to the one Harry was currently holding on to.

Draco’s brows rose at the sight of a second Herbology book being pulled out of Hermione’s bag. “You have two of those?”

“Of course,” Hermione answered as if it was normal. “I have two of every book on the curriculum.”

“Why?” Draco asked.

“For occasions such as these where it comes to my attention that both of them –“ (she gestured towards Harry and Ron) “- have a serious and urgent lack of very important knowledge on a subject and I deem that it cannot wait and they haven’t brought their own books.”

Draco just stared at her incredulously.

“Does that happen a lot?” Zabini asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged. “More often than you’d think.”

Parkinson snorted and mumbled, “Freak,” without looking up from her magazine.

Reluctantly, Harry resigned to the fact that he had apparently found himself a boyfriend who was almost as mad as Hermione regarding homework and what should be deemed ‘very important information’, and he started writing the stupid essay.

The rest of the trip was spent in relative silence, napping and reading.

“By the way, Parkinson and Zabini,” Harry said as they neared the station. They looked up. “I was wondering if you’d like to come celebrate Christmas Eve and New Year’s with me and Draco. And Mrs. Malfoy, of course.”

Silence filled the air. Then a loud groan escaped Ron.

“My mother expects me to be home on Christmas Eve,” Parkinson said, having quickly composed herself, “but I might be able to manage to get away for New Year’s.”

“Same goes for me,” Zabini seconded.

“Excellent. We’ll owl you the details.” Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, leaving the rest of the occupants to exchange baffled looks.

“Okay then,” Parkinson said as they said their goodbyes on the train as it pulled in at the platform. “I’ll see you all soon then.” She hugged Draco and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Good luck, darling,” she said to him quietly. She hugged Zabini as well and then, to everybody’s surprise, pulled Harry in for a hug as well.

She held on tight and tilted her head upwards to whisper in Harry’s ear. “If you hurt him again I will skin you alive and wear your skin as a coat. Got it?” She let go of him and smiled at him sweetly. Harry nodded. He had no intentions of hurting Draco ever again, even if Parkinson hadn’t made that threat (which he had no doubt she was quite serious about).

“Excellent,” she said. She turned away and gave a sort of half-hearted salute to the two other Gryffindors.

“See you at New Year’s,” Harry said as the two Slytherins went off to meet with their families.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing on the platform waiting to greet them all, and Harry stepped aside to let Ron and Ginny greet them first, and to offer his support to Draco who was holding on to his hand firmly and looking nervous. Around them in a sort of semi-circle Aurors were positioned in what Harry supposed was meant to be a discreet manner, except that their serious facial expressions more suggested a variation between constipation and the expression one would wear at the sickbed of a dear friend, and not as if they were waiting to greet someone just home after four months at Hogwarts. As Harry looked around he saw several other people with the same facial expressions standing around on the platform, eyes searching for something.

“I wonder why it’s swarming with Aurors,” Harry said, looking around.

“Really, Harry?” Draco said drily and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

Harry just stared at him. Then it dawned on him. “Your father,” he said quietly. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to show up here, though, would he?”

“Don’t know,” Draco answered and shrugged. “I think that depends on how badly he wants to kill me and Mother.”

Harry felt a shiver run through his body at the laissez faire manner Draco said it. “Don’t say that like it’s nothing.”

“Come on, Harry. You’ve been a marked man for years. This isn’t different.”

“Except that it’s your _father_ wanting to kill you,” Harry muttered.

 “I stopped considering him my father when he started offering up my mother,” Draco said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t see her here,” Harry said, looking around and wanting to change the subject just a tad.

“Seriously?” Draco asked. “And you want to be an Auror!”

Harry gave him a wordless _‘what’_.

“We _just_ talked about my father wanting to kill her. Of course she’s not going to be here.”

“Oh. Right.” Harry mentally slapped himself on the back of the head. So much for a subject change.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Draco said and squeezed his hand. Before Harry could answer Draco dragged him off in the direction of the approaching Weasleys to greet them.

Mrs. Weasley spread her arms and enfolded Harry in a tight hug while Mr. Weasley shook hands with Draco. Then she let go of Harry, pushed Mr. Weasley aside and hugged Draco just as tight. Draco managed to raise his arms before she got hold of him, which meant that her arms were wrapped around his waist, enabling her to hug him even tighter. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at Draco’s shocked expression and the way he was flapping his hands, not quite knowing what to do with them.

When Mrs. Weasley didn’t let go Draco looked to Harry for directions. _“Am I supposed to do something?”_ he asked in a whisper.

“You just have to ride it out,” Harry said, still snickering.

Draco moved his hand to pat Mrs. Weasley on the head. “There, there,” he said awkwardly. Nothing happened.

“Molly, let go of the poor boy,” Mr. Weasley said eventually with a sigh.

Mrs. Weasley finally let go and Draco let go a relieved sigh. Mrs. Weasley took Draco’s hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.

“Your mother so wanted to be here, Draco, but…” she said, pity painted on her face.

“I know,” Draco said.

“Molly, enough now,” Mr. Weasley said. “The sooner we get going the sooner Draco will get to see his mother.”

Mrs. Weasley let go of Draco’s hands and started ushering them away from the platform and train station and into an alley from where they side-along apparated with each their Auror to the front step of Grimmauld Place.

They all followed each other in quick succession and were soon filling up the hall. Hearing the racket they were soon greeted by the shrill tones of Walburga Black who was, however, quickly silenced by several silencing charms cast against her at once by various Aurors.

Harry suddenly noticed a tall, slender woman rushing through the crowd, summoned by the racket and paying no attention whatsoever to anyone save Draco. Draco beamed when he saw her and rushed towards her. When they were in front of each other, instead of hugging, they each moved their hands to the other’s face, Draco cupping his mother’s cheeks, and his mother cupping his. Mrs. Malfoy then tilted her head up and Draco tilted his down, letting their foreheads meet and rest against each other. They stood like that for a while, talking quietly.

Not wanting to intrude on their private moment Harry turned to face the Weasleys to greet them before they left for the Burrow.

*

Surprisingly, the Weasleys were tactful enough to leave Draco and his mother alone long enough for them to greet each other properly. It was so long since he had seen her that they just stood for what seemed like forever, cupping each other’s cheeks and resting their foreheads against each other. It seemed like even longer because of the fact that she was locked up in a house she wasn’t able to leave, and the fact that they both had to be careful about owl post in case of interception.

Draco congratulated himself that he nearly successfully managed not to get emotional about it.

When they finally broke apart they turned to join in the chatter with the remaining group of people. Most of the Aurors had spilled out, since there was now no imminent danger to either of them, having arrived at the safe house. The only Auror left was Kingsley Shacklebolt who Draco eyed suspiciously – for some reason he had taken an immediate disliking to the man. Apart from him, the people left, who weren’t going to be staying at the house, were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione and the Weaselette.

Draco’s mother walked over to Shacklebolt. “Thank you for bringing my son home safely, Kingsley.” She looked up at him adoringly. Draco nearly choked at seeing that expression on his mother’s face. It was unheard of. The worst part was that the huge man looked down at his mother with the same expression on his face.

Instead of choking Draco settled for clearing his throat. “Yes, thank you,” he said, directed at the Auror so he would have to remove his attention from his mother.

“Not at all,” Shacklebolt said, smiling. “It is a pleasure being assigned to this case, I assure you.”

Someone snorted and Draco turned around to see who had made the sound. His eyes fell on the Weaselette who was still standing in the crowd.

“Perhaps you should leave now, Ginny,” Harry said, not really making it sound like a suggestion.

The Weaselette suddenly looked uncertain and her eyes darted to her mother, possibly for guidance.

“You just hop along home now, darling, and we will see you later. Fred and George will be there. And Bill and Fleur are coming over later this evening. Charlie won’t be over ‘till tomorrow.”

The Weaselette looked to Harry. She opened her mouth as if to speak but then thought better of it. She turned around and disappeared through the fireplace. The room was filled with awkward silence.

“Who would like some hot chocolate?” Mr. Weasley suddenly asked loudly, completely out of context. “Molly, could you make some of that delicious hot chocolate of yours?”

 

When they were all well fed by Mrs. Weasley’s hot chocolate and an assortment of stale biscuits (complements of Kreacher), they bid their farewells and the remaining Weasleys and Hermione went through the fireplace to wherever the Weasleys lived.

“Let me show you to your rooms,” Draco’s mother said and led the way through the hall and up the stairs to the second landing.

They levitated their trunks up the stairs into their respective rooms, which were placed right next to each other. Draco had known they would not be sharing a room but couldn’t help being just a tad disappointed nonetheless.

His mother proceeded to lead them on a tour of the house, showing them all her redecorations. Harry ‘ahd’ and ‘oohd’ in all the right places, commenting on the changes Draco’s mother had made, which had undeniably brightened up the place considerably.

When they entered the room that held the Black Family Tapestry Harry fell silent. He walked to stand in front of it and traced some of the branches with his index finger, letting it rest on the black blotches that tainted the tapestry. When his finger reached the black scorch mark next to Regulus Black he moved his finger over it, spelling out an invisible ‘Sirius’. Draco felt a strong urge to grab hold of his hand. He restrained himself, though, not wanting to disrespect Harry’s wish to let Draco’s mother get to know him and like him beforehand.

Draco turned to look at his mother who had a pained expression on her face and he knew that she regretted taking them to the room.

After a while Harry cleared his throat and straightened his back. When he turned around he was smiling, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s marvellous what you’ve done with the place, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said.

Draco’s mother smiled warmly and suggested they all take tea in the kitchen.

They all went to bed early, tired from the day’s journey and the company earlier that day.

 

**22 nd December (Sunday)**

Having gone to bed early, Draco woke up early as well. There were sounds coming from the bottom floor and he showered quickly and got dressed to go down to see his mother. He went to the sitting room in search of her but didn’t find her there. There were clanking noises coming from the kitchen, and Draco figured that Kreacher or Bilbo must be cooking or cleaning or whatever, and he thought that perhaps his mother might still be asleep after all. He went to the kitchen to tell one of the house elves to fetch him something to eat. Instead of a bustling elf, however, he was greeted by the sight of his mother bending down in front of the open oven, dressed in a plain cotton dress – a simple, lovely dove blue, long dress with half sleeves and buttons up the back that stood beautifully against her pale skin. In addition, she was wearing a light grey apron.  The colour fit the blue of her dress rather nicely, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was, in fact, an _apron_. His mother was wearing _an apron_.

At least it wasn’t frilly.

Draco cleared his throat and his mother turned around, wearing oven mitts and carrying an oven tray full of what looked like small rocks. Draco’s jaw dropped.

“Good morning, Draco.” His mother beamed when she saw him.

“Good morning, Mother,” Draco answered as he collected himself. “You’re wearing an apron.”

“I am aware,” his mother answered back, looking amused. She put down the tray on a mat and began putting the little rocks onto a plate.

“What did you make?”

“It’s my own recipe,” she said proudly. “Mrs. Weasley gave me some recipes and I decided to evolve them. I have become quite good at it. Have one.” She held out the plate for him to take one.

Draco eyed them warily. Most of them were a dark brown, and Draco suspected it had less to do with cocoa powder than with miscalculated heat. Some were black and some, inexplicably, looked as if they hadn’t been in the oven at all. Draco carefully picked one – choosing one that didn’t look completely baked, nor completely raw – and tried to take a bite. It was as hard as the rocks they looked to be. He winced as he felt a tooth crack.

“Mmm, they are very good, Mother,” he said, trying to look convincing. His mother smiled at him warmly. That smile was worth a cracked tooth any day. “Although I think I’ll wait with the biscuits till later. Right now I’m more in need of a proper breakfast.”

They went to the dining room (thank Merlin his mother still had enough etiquette to sit at a properly set table and not at the kitchen table!) and sat down. On their way there, Draco discretely cast a healing charm on his cracked tooth. They watched Bilbo and Kreacher battling to get to be the one to serve them. Draco almost laughed as they eventually began negotiating in hushed voices over who would do what. In the end, they agreed that Kreacher would serve them breakfast and Bilbo would serve them lunch. They would try to work together for supper.

Just as Kreacher was about to serve the breakfast Harry walked in and sat down at the table with them.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” Draco's mother said, and Harry responded politely in turn.

His eyes fell on the biscuits and he studied them curiously. “What are those?” he asked.

“Biscuits,” Draco answered. “Mother’s homemade recipe.” He said it slowly, keeping eye contact and trying to convey to Harry that he should not have one if he held his teeth dear.

However, Harry, of course, resolutely grabbed one and tried to take a bite. There was a loud cracking noise that Draco wasn’t sure was teeth or biscuit. Harry kept his face neutral as he took a large gulp of tea. Then he smiled at Draco’s mother.

“It is delicious, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said and smiled at Draco’s mother. “I have a friend who makes biscuits almost exactly like these. If you will excuse my poor manners; I do enjoy dunking it.” He dunked the biscuit in his tea and kept it there for quite some time, trying to soften it a bit.

He ate the whole thing.

“Keep that up and she’s going to be smitten by you before you can say ‘rock-hard-tooth-crack-biscuit’,” Draco said as they left the table to take a tour of the large, magically expanded garden, just the two of them.

Harry grinned. “Hagrid makes cakes just like them. It was almost nostalgic.”

It turned out that only part of the garden was temperature regulated, and at different degrees, actively giving the impression of all four seasons being present in the garden.

When they walked past the small garden tool shed that was placed in the winter-part of the garden, Draco tried to initiate a quickie, but Harry refused point blank to have any sort of sex while under the same roof as Draco’s mother, even though Draco pointed out that technically they weren’t under any roof at all right now.

Sodding Gryffindor.

 

**23 rd December (Monday)**

Harry had gone to meet up with Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley. Draco couldn’t go out, obviously, what with his father still being on the loose and all, and Harry had originally decided to stay in as well, until Draco literally had to shove him into the fireplace and call out the Leaky Cauldron himself.

It wasn’t that Draco didn’t want to go out or didn’t want to spend time with Harry – it was that he had things to do that very much required Harry’s absence.

And so, he set to work…

 

**24 th December (Tuesday – Christmas Eve)**

On Christmas Eve’s day the majority of the Weasley family stopped by, since Harry wasn’t going to spend Christmas Day with them this year as he had on earlier occasions.

To say that it was difficult having to conceal their relationship was an understatement. Harry had a constant urge to pull Draco in for a kiss or hug, to take his hand, put his arm around him or to sniff his hair.

Mrs. Weasley had, as promised, given him a scolding for using Kreacher to deliver letters between Draco and his mother. Harry had stood with his head bowed and said ‘yes, Mrs. Weasley’ and ‘no, Mrs. Weasley’ until Mrs. Malfoy had intervened and said that she was as much to blame as Harry as she had allowed it to take place. Obviously uncomfortable with scolding anyone she didn’t view as one of her children Mrs. Weasley went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate ala Mrs. Weasley – a beverage of which they had all become very fond.

Hermione joined them in the evening and they all sat down for a delicious Christmas Eve dinner, prepared by Mrs. Weasley who had thrown both Kreacher and Bilbo out of the kitchen and refused to let them help preparing the meal. The two distressed house elves took turns trying to sneak in to the kitchen to help, some way or other, but Mrs. Weasley was adamant that she prepare the dinner without the help of elves – just as she had always done. Instead they wandered around aimlessly, trying to force their help on the other guests, until Draco took pity on them and emptied a full pitcher of mulled wine on one of the old carpets in the hall that had survived Mrs. Malfoy’s redecorating. The elves immediately set to work, cleaning the stain. Draco was met by bemused and amused stares when he entered the living room where the rest of the party were gathered. He merely shrugged and went to fetch another pitcher.

Mrs. Malfoy had also tried to assist Mrs. Weasley, who had politely steered her out of the kitchen with the excuse that she ‘shouldn’t risk ruining that lovely dress’. Harry, along with everybody else who had been subjected to Mrs. Malfoy’s version of rock cakes, was secretly pleased. Besides, it really was a lovely dress: Bottle green taffeta with long, tight sleeves and, buttons down the back, tight on the upper body but long and flowing from the waist down. It made her look almost regal. And the funny part was that it somehow didn’t even make her look over dressed.

They had a lovely dinner. Harry could tell that Draco was a little tense, most likely because of being surrounded by the entire Weasley clan, save Charlie, Percy and, of course, Ginny. Luckily, Harry and Draco had been able to find a seat next to each other and once in a while Harry would slip his hand under the table to give Draco’s thigh a light squeeze as reassurance.

However, by time for pudding, Draco had loosened up considerably and seemed much more at ease.

All in all, it was a pretty perfect Christmas Eve.

 

**25 th December (Wednesday – Christmas Day)**

Harry woke early Christmas Day by someone tip toing through his room and lying down on his bed.

“I really hope that’s you, Draco,” he said in a muffled, still sleepy voice.

He was answered with a soft peck on the lips. “Merry Christmas, Harry,” Draco said.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled at his boyfriend. “Merry Christmas, Draco.”

Draco scooted closer and draped his arm over Harry who was lying on his side. Draco started trailing his fingertips down Harry’s back and was soon stroking his hand over Harry’s arse cheeks clad only in a pair of tight boxers. He let his hand slide over Harry’s hip and under the elastic band to take hold of Harry’s cock which was already hard, as, of course, it was most mornings. Harry gasped and his eyes fluttered shut.

It was with immense inner strength that he moved his hand down and pried away Draco’s hand, causing Draco to groan in frustration.

“Seriously, Harry?”

“Seriously,” Harry answered. “I’m not going to do anything that might prejudice you mother against me.”

“Come on,” Draco said. “It’s not like we’d tell her.”

“She might walk in on us,” Harry argued.

“Why on earth would she do that,” Draco asked. “This is _your_ room. Besides, she isn’t even up yet. And it’s Christmas. And it’s been like five days. And it’s _Christmas_.”

He looked adorable, Harry thought, pouting and with big, pleading puppy dog eyes. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine.”

He reached down and resolutely took a firm hold of Draco’s prick. Draco grinned at him and reached down to reciprocate. They were stroking each other towards completion, their mouths open and lips touching without it being actual kisses, and their breaths mixing from their panting, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. Both of them stilled their movements.

“Mr. Potter?” Harry heard Mrs. Malfoy’s voice from the other side of the door.

Both boys’ eyes widened drastically. Okay, so that _was_ unexpected.

“Uh… Yes?” Harry called back. There was silence and after a couple of seconds Harry was starting to wonder if he had imagined hearing both the knock and the voice. But then again, Draco would have to have imagined it, too.

“Mrs. Malfoy?” he called, making sure to raise his voice enough for it to sound on the other side of the door.

“May I come in?” she asked, and Harry’s jaw dropped.

He stared at Draco, slightly panicked. Draco looked frantically around the room for a place to hide and in the end decided to jump in to the cupboard.

“Yes,” Harry called. He sat up against the headboard, knees bent and duvet pulled all the way up to his chin to conceal as much of his body as possible.

The door opened and Mrs. Malfoy entered. She looked worried and was wringing her hands. She closed the door then turned to face him. She stood for a while, not speaking and looking decidedly uncomfortably – most likely at the fact that she was standing in the middle of her son’s friend’s bedroom while said friend was sitting in his bed, obviously still in his night things (which consisted only of a pair of boxers, though of course Mrs. Malfoy didn’t know that).

“Um… How may I help you, Mrs. Malfoy?” Harry asked after a while.

“Have… Have you seen Draco today?” she asked, her voice small and worried.

“No,” Harry said quickly. “Why?”

“I… He isn’t in his room.”

“Well, perhaps he’s in the bathroom?” Harry suggested.

“He isn’t,” she answered immediately. “I checked them all.”

“Um… Okay?” Harry said, at a loss as to what to say. “Perhaps he’s downstairs. Knowing Draco, he will be impatient to get to the present-opening part of the day. He’s probably sitting by the tree, shaking and prodding his presents.”

From the cupboard, Harry heard a small huff. Luckily, Mrs. Malfoy didn’t seem to hear it but only continued worrying her lip.

“He isn’t. I’ve checked every room in the house, save yours. I thought that perhaps… I don’t know… It was a silly thought.”

To Harry’s horror, she didn’t leave the room to continue her search for Draco; instead she sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked down at her hands.

“I’m just so worried something happened,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“I’m sure nothing has happened, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry tried to comfort. “You’re both safe here.”

She looked up. Her eyes were watery and full of concern. “But he _isn’t_ _here_. What if he went out? What if someone found him and took him? Lucius is still… They might…”

Harry’s stomach twisted at the sight and at the knowledge that Draco was currently hiding in a cupboard a mere ten feet or so away.

“He’s in the tool shed,” he blurted out.

“In the tool shed?”

Harry nodded.

“I didn’t check the tool shed,” she said to herself. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Harry said. “Um, he’s preparing a surprise. For you. A surprise for you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I didn’t realise how worried you were.”

“That’s okay,” Mrs. Malfoy answered, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. And still she didn’t leave the room! “I want to apologise for what I said to you last year,” she blurted out, suddenly and out of context.

“Uh…” Harry struggled to remember.

“In Diagon Alley. When we ran in to each other while shopping for your school robes. About Dumbledore not always being around to protect you. I didn’t know…”

Harry remembered now. “That’s alright,” he said. He was starting to feel _really_ uncomfortable, sitting in bed having a deep conversation with his secret boyfriend’s mother, while his secret boyfriend was currently hidden in a cupboard in the same room.

“I – we owe you so much, Draco and I,” Mrs. Malfoy continued quietly. “And we have done nothing to deserve everything you have done for us.”

“I haven’t done anything. You don’t owe me anything,” Harry tried to reassure. “If anything, I owe you for redecorating this old shoddy house. It’s actually worth living in now.”

“I worry about him so much. All the time. All I can think of is what I would do if anything should happen to him.”

Harry watched in poorly concealed horror as a tear trickled down her cheek. He considered patting her shoulder or giving her a hug or something like he would any other woman he knew. But somehow Mrs. Malfoy didn’t seem like the type of woman to do that to.

“I’m so glad you two have become friends,” she said.

“I am, too,” Harry said and smiled to himself. “You’ve really done an excellent job on him.”

Mrs. Malfoy smiled a small smile and dabbed her eyes again. She straightened her back. “You’re a wonderful boy, Harry,” she said as she cupped his cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “And Draco is lucky to have you as a friend.” She stood up, opened the door and left the room.

Harry was left looking at the closed door in confusion.

“Merlin, that was inappropriate,” Draco said as he walked out of the cupboard.

Harry quickly stood up. “How _dare_ you worry your mother like that?” he demanded, hands propped on his hips.

Draco looked taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You heard her,” Harry said. “She was absolutely _sick_ with worry, because of you hiding from her.”

“ _Hiding_ from her?” Draco asked incredulously. “It’s not even six thirty in the morning.”

“Exactly! And you’re not in your bed. Of course she’s worried.”

Draco stared at him incredulously. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that she’d go check if I’m still in my bed at that hour?” Then he rolled his eyes and huffed. “Right. I’d better go set her mind at ease then.” He moved to leave the room. “And figure out some sort of surprise for her that would have to require me being in the sodding tool shed,” he muttered on his way out.

*

They took breakfast in the dining room before settling down in the living room to open their presents. Draco tried not to look too eager but had a hard time concealing that this was, in fact, his favourite part about Christmas. But honestly, who didn’t like getting presents?

His mother had got him a crystal stirring rod, enabling him to brew more advanced potions that were sensitive to the magic that was inevitably nestled in a wand, and a large box with a selection of his favourite truffles, ganaches and mendiants from La Maison du Chocolat in Paris.

She had made a photo album for Harry full of pictures of Sirius and other witches and wizards she thought Harry might know or know of, that she had found here and there during her redecorations and Harry had thanked her, sounding full of awe.

Draco had told his mother that he was sorry, but the surprise he had been preparing for her in the tool shed had been destroyed by Harry who had clumsily knocked what-ever-it-was over and broken it beyond repair. His mother had reassured him and let him know that it didn’t matter.

His real present to her was a beautiful sapphire necklace. (Thank fuck he still had access to the vault in Gringotts that his parents had been supplying steadily with a vast amount of Galleons each month up until half a year ago – it was, conveniently, put in his name and not his father’s, and his father thus had no right of disposal of it.) The sapphire was shaped like a heart and outlined by tiny diamonds and little silver studs. The chain was simple, plain silver. The intense blue colour brought out the blue in her eyes beautifully.

Draco was surprised when it turned out that Harry had got a present for his mother as well.

“It’s nothing special,” Harry said when he presented it to her. “Just, you know…”

His mother seemed surprised as well as she neatly unwrapped the heavy square box. It was a big black box. She looked at it bemused, not quite sure what to say.

“It’s a DVD player,” Harry explained. “To go with the TV. You can get little disks with movies on them and you just put them in the box and they show on the TV. I thought maybe you could use it when we go back to school. It’s quite good pass-time actually.” He reached under the tree and retrieved another square present. “I got you this to go with it.”

Draco’s mother unwrapped that present as well. It was another small box that, when opened contained several small disks. On the front was a picture of a good looking couple and the title ‘Pride and Prejudice’.

“It’s a BBC production of Pride and Prejudice,” Harry explained. He looked at her expectantly.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said and smiled at Harry, and Draco could see that she meant it.

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco said as well, even though the gift wasn’t for him. He knew Harry had most likely had Draco’s worries at his mother’s solitude in mind when he got it.

Harry smiled at him. “No problem.”

Harry had got Draco a box set of detective novels by Agatha Christie and a trilogy; The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien that was also about Hobbits. “So that’s what you were getting when you were out with Ron and Hermione?” Draco asked after thanking him.

“Yes,” Harry said and handed him another present. “Careful or you might get cut.”

Draco frowned at the words as he unwrapped it. When he saw what it was his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Wow… Thank you, Harry, for this…  shard of glass,” he said at a loss for other words.

“It’s a two-way mirror,” Harry explained. “Well, some of it anyway. It broke last year. I saw the other one on a bedside table in one of the spare rooms and suddenly remembered I had it. This way you and your mother can always communicate. You just say the name of the other holder and your image will appear on their mirror.”

Draco looked at his mother whose eyes looked a tad damp, and back at Harry who was beaming at him. When Draco didn’t say anything, his smile faltered a little. “I… I thought it was a good idea. You know, might make it easier for you to communicate. I don’t know….”

“It’s perfect, Harry,” Draco said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said and smiled warmly at him.

Draco returned his smile. They held eye contact for a few moments, during which Draco felt very tingly and warm inside, his pulse quickened and his heart did funny things. When they finally tore their eyes from each other his mother was looking from one to the other with a mixture of surprise and bemusement on her face but made no comment. Draco blushed and swallowed.

“Right,” he said. ““For obvious reasons I couldn’t go out to get you something, Harry,” he said. “And last Hogsmeade weekend I was upset with you, so I didn’t get you anything then.”

“That’s okay,” Harry started reassuring.

 “So I have your present upstairs,” Draco continued and stood up. Harry and Draco’s mother stood as well, the former looking curious and bemused. His mother already knew what it was and was looking at Draco expectantly.

They all moved upstairs and Draco led them to the right room. He saw Harry frown as it dawned on him which room they were standing in front of. Draco knew about Harry’s reluctance to enter that particular room, but opened the door and gently nudged him inside.

The tapestry was hanging on the opposite wall. Harry stopped in the middle of the otherwise empty room and looked at Draco questioningly. Draco almost took Harry’s hand to lead him to the tapestry but soon remembered that his mother was also in the room and led Harry by the elbow instead.

He watched anxiously as Harry looked at the tapestry, waiting for him to discover what Draco wanted him to see.

Draco could see the actual moment when Harry saw the name. His lips parted slightly and he made a small, soft whimper.

 _‘Sirius Black’_ was no longer covered by a black scorch mark but stood out as clearly as any other name on the tapestry, and along with all the other names that had once been scorched away but were now back. From _‘Sirius Black’_ Draco had ensured a small dotted line that led to _‘Harry Potter’_ , even though Harry wasn’t truly a Black.

Harry stood there quietly, just watching. Eventually he brought up his arm and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Draco moved over and put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry didn’t answer but put his own arm around Draco’s waist. Draco heard the door click as his mother closed it behind her as she left the room.

They stood like that for a long while.

“How did you do this?” Harry asked.

“Well, this house happens to have an extensive library, and I happen to be an excellent researcher.”

“But when? It must have taken loads of time.”

“I did most of it while you were out with Ron and Hermione day before yesterday, and I’ve been finishing a couple of details during the evenings after we went to bed. I snuck out and did this instead. I only finished it this morning, right before I woke you up.”

Harry stared at him for a while. “Thank you,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed Draco. Finally!

 

As they were sitting in front of the fire that evening, enjoying tea and treats, Harry suddenly sat up straight.

“You didn’t open the present Lavender gave you yet.”

“Of course not,” Draco answered. “Guarantied it’s poisonous or explosive or some such.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco. “Of course it’s not.”

“Who is Lavender?” Draco’s mother asked.

“Yes, Draco, who is Lavender?” Harry asked teasingly.

Draco glared at him. “Just some bint who has an annoying crush on me.”

“Language, Draco! And why would she poison you if she has a crush on you?” his mother asked sensibly.

“Yes, Draco, why would she?” Harry asked, grinning.

“Fine, I’ll open the stupid present,” Draco said, avoiding the question (he was fairly certain that his mother would not be impressed by the fact that he had used another person to get back at Harry), and got up to retrieve it from the pocket in his school robes, which he hadn’t yet removed it from.

His mother and Harry were observing him curiously as he unwrapped the glossy paper. Inside was a small black velvet box that had a disturbing resemblance to a jewellery box.

He opened the small box. “What the _fuck_ is this?” he asked, as he held up the item that was inside.

Harry doubled over, practically howling with laughter.

“ _Draco!_ Language!” his mother said again.

He mumbled a sedate “sorry” as he observed the horrific thing. It was a thick gold chain with large gold letters that spelled _‘My Sweetheart’_.

“Ron has one of those, too,” Harry gasped between laughs. “You should wear them together and you can be necklace buddies.” He started laughing again.

Draco glared at him, put the necklace back in the box and put in on the table.

“That was very nice of her,” his mother commented as she picked up the box and studied the necklace. “Horrendous though it may be,” she added quietly under her breath.

**26 th December (Thursday – Boxing Day)**

_“DRACO.”_

Draco was awoken by his mother’s scream. He was awake and alert in less than a second and on his way down the stairs with his wand drawn, clad only in pyjamas.

A second later Draco heard Harry barging out of his room, and hurrying down the stairs as well.

Draco could hear his mother crying in the kitchen and he was already freaking out about what terrible thing could have happened to make her react like that. When he entered the kitchen his mother was leaning into an embrace from Kingsley Shacklebolt. She had her back to Draco and he could tell from the shaking that she was soundlessly sobbing.

“Mother?” he said questioningly, his voice embarrassingly small. Then he turned his attention to the wizard whose arms were around her, holding on to her tightly. “Back off, Shacklebolt! What did you do to her? Mother, what did he do to you? What’s the matter?”

She turned around. She was smiling, her smile clashing drastically with the tears spilling down her cheeks in a steady stream.

“They got him,” she said, her smile widening almost frighteningly. “They got him, Draco. They got him.”

Draco stood for a while not quite contemplating what was going on and who had been caught by whom. When it finally dawned on him he found that he was unable to speak. His jaw dropped, but other than that he was motionless.

“They got him?” he whispered eventually, and his mother nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Completely,” Shacklebolt answered. “He was captured lurking about in the neighbourhood earlier today. Apparently he has been searching out relatives and places with connections to the Black family line. He wasn’t able to find this place due to the Fidelius charm but he had a vague recollection of the area.”

“Who else knows?” Draco heard Harry ask from behind them. He turned around and took in the sight of Harry , wand in hand and dressed only in his boxers.

“No one,” Kingsley answered. “He was questioned with Veritaserum and…”

“He agreed to be questioned with Veritaserum?” Harry asked sceptically.

“Of course not,” Shacklebolt said. “But this is war, Harry. Needs must.”  Draco felt an unwelcome surge of respect for the Auror. “As I was saying,” Shacklebolt continued, “He was questioned with Veritaserum and informed us that he had not revealed any thoughts about your whereabouts to neither You Know Who nor the other Death Eaters. He wanted to be the one to capture you and bring you to You Know Who.”

“So… It’s over?” Draco asked. “We’re free? We can leave the house?”

“ _You_ can leave the house,” Shacklebolt said. “I’m afraid your father revealed that while _you_ are not in any danger from the other Death Eaters, there are still some out to get to your mother. Apparently a lot of them felt cheated and insulted that their…” his facial expression turned to anger and disgust “… _entertainment_ … had escaped, and are still after your mother. As far as we know, _you_ are safe.”

Draco felt a shiver run down his spine at the information that his mother was still in danger, and he suddenly felt – and probably looked – scared.

Draco’s mother quickly turned to face Shacklebolt, an icy look on her face. “Kingsley! I will _not_ have you say such horrid things in front of Draco!”

Shacklebolt looked down and mumbled a quiet ‘sorry’. Draco almost smirked at the thought of his mother’s ability to intimidate grown men.

“But… It’s true?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so, Dragon,” his mother said and went over to cup his cheeks. She looked him in the eyes. “But I’m safe here. I’ve been safe and well taken care of all this time, and I will continue being safe and well taken care of. You just enjoy that you can leave the house, sweetheart.”

“But…” Harry said, directed at Shacklebolt. “Won’t they be able to deduct that Draco is staying with Mrs. Malfoy over Christmas? They would have to be exceptionally stupid to not think about that. What if somebody sees him? They’ll know she’s in the area.”

“That is true,” Shacklebolt agreed, and Draco felt a stab of disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to leave the house after all. Then he pushed it away; his mother’s safety was more important than any need Draco might have.

But Shacklebolt continued: “That is why we are going to need a hair from each of you.” He looked at Draco and his mother.

“You’re going to set a trap?” Harry asked.

“Of sorts,” the Auror answered. He addressed Draco. “Professor Snape is going to inform the Death Eaters that you and your mother are going to hide out in Burundi over Christmas.” At both Harry and Draco’s baffled looks he explained, “There’s a civil war going on there at the moment. It’s practically impossible to get in to the country, even for wizards. We’re counting on those facts to make it believable that we would hide you there.  We are going to send off a large team of Aurors, two of whom will be disguised as the two of you.” He looked at Draco and his mother. “We are hoping to capture a fair amount of Death Eaters in the process.”

“And when will this plan be executed?” Draco asked.

“As soon as possible,” Shacklebolt informed. “However, there is quite a bit of preparation necessary to make it look authentic, so you will most likely not be able to leave the house until tomorrow.”

“Right, well, thank you for informing us,” Draco said.

“Not at all.” Shacklebolt beamed as he looked at Draco’s mother. “I am certain you have things to discuss so I will take my leave.” He pulled Draco’s mother in for another tight embrace and pecked her cheek. Draco chose to ignore it. This time. Then the Auror turned and walked into the sitting room, leaving through the fire place.

Draco had a hard time taking it all in. He turned towards Harry who was smiling at him, his eyes soft and full of… something. Draco smiled back. Harry walked towards him and pulled him in for a big hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” he whispered, then let go. “I’m very happy for you, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said to Draco’s mother. “I’m sure you could need some privacy, so I’ll leave you to it and see you later.” Draco was certain Harry almost leaned in as if to kiss him but remembered himself and pulled back before anything could happen. Then he turned and left the kitchen.

Draco turned to face his mother again and she was in front of him and pulling him into her arms immediately. There was a lot of hugging going on that day, Draco thought – not that he minded.

They spent the remainder of the day in the sitting room in front of the fire, alternating between talking, being silent, embracing, crying (mostly on his mother’s part, of course – Draco was just having a severe allergic reaction), and Draco giving his mother head and shoulder rubs for the rest of the day. Harry tactfully stayed out of the way and throughout the day ordered Kreacher and Bilbo to bring Draco and his mother respectively breakfast, elevenses, lunch, afternoon tea, supper and pudding in the sitting room. For once, Draco didn’t mind eating in a sofa.

 

**27 th December (Friday)**

The day following Lucius’ capture Harry and Draco decided to take advantage of Draco’s newfound sort-of-freedom. Kingsley had come by just after lunch to inform them that the plan had been executed successfully and they were free to leave the house, as long as they were vigilant and careful.

So three o’clock in the afternoon found the two of them wandering the streets of London. They strolled down the street hand in hand not talking.

After walking around for a few hours, just looking at the lights and Christmas decorations that were still very much present they had tea in a small café, sitting at a window table. Eventually, Harry’s hand found its way across the table to take hold of Draco’s and let their fingers entwine. They caught each other’s eyes and Draco smiled at Harry – a smile so dazzling and warm that it made Harry’s stomach and chest tickle, and pleasant warmth spread in his entire body. Draco continued finishing his tea while Harry just observed him, wondering at his luck.

“Are you famous in the muggle world as well?” Draco asked to Harry’s surprise, as they had left the café and continued their walk down the street?

“No? Why do you ask?” Harry answered, looking the his side at Draco.

“People are looking at you funny.”

Harry hadn’t noticed anyone looking, but then again – he was so used to people staring at him that he didn’t really notice anymore. He looked around him to see what Draco was on about and found that indeed several of the people walking in the opposite direction sent lingering looks in their direction; some smiling, some giggling and pointing, some sneering, some looking downright disgusted.

Harry couldn’t help a snicker. People _were_ staring, though not for whatever reason Draco thought. “They’re not looking at me, they’re looking at _us_.”

“At us? Why?” Draco asked, and Harry could practically hear him frowning.

“Because of this,” he answered and squeezed Draco’s hand.

“Why would they stare at us holding hands?” Draco asked.

“It’s frowned upon by many in the muggle world,” Harry explained.

“To hold hands?”

“For two men to hold hands.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know, really,” Harry answered. “I guess some people find it unnatural for two people of the same sex to be together.”

“Do you find it unnatural?” Draco asked curiously.

Harry thought about it. He didn’t. Not really. But there was still that little voice representing his aunt, uncle and cousin, saying that gay people were disgusting. That they were unnatural. That they were freaks. That Harry was a freak. Then again – anything that seemed unnatural and wrong to the Dursleys…

“Harry?” Draco asked and Harry realised his mind had been wandering.

“No. I don’t find it unnatural,” he said firmly. “I find it just right.” Then he gave Draco’s hand another squeeze, and Draco squeezed back.

They walked on. Not really being all that familiar with the London geography Harry had just let his feet lead them. Every so often Draco would ask a question about things they saw – a shop, a vehicle, a person’s behaviour, slang and the like – that Harry answered readily and to the best of his ability.

Draco suddenly stopped and pointed at a street sign. “Look,” he said enthusiastically. “Gracechurch Street.”

Harry looked at him, confused. “So?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s where Jane went with the Gardiners when Bingley left Netherfield.”

Harry just stared at him. “You do realise you’re making little to no sense, right?”

Draco rolled his eyes again. “In Pride and Prejudice.”

“So?” Harry asked.

“I thought they were made up places. I didn’t know they actually exist.”

Harry looked at Draco beaming at the thought of a street name being real and not made up. “You’re adorable,” he said and smiled at Draco fondly.

Draco scowled. “I am many things, Harry. _‘Adorable’_ is not one of them.” He raised his chin and huffed as they moved on, taking some of the smaller streets.

“Why are there so many castles?” he asked after a while.

“Castles?” Harry asked and looked around, seeing no castles at all, and not recalling having seen any.

“Yes, castles,” Draco repeated. “It’s like there’s practically one on each corner. Look.” He pointed to the right, at a building that could, indeed, easily be mistaken as a small castle. “There’s another one.”

Harry couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a church, Draco,” he said.

When Draco just looked at him blankly, Harry continued. “For worshipping.”

“Who do they worship?” Draco asked.

“God.” Harry answered.

“Which God?”

“Not _a_ God. _God._ Or Mary.”

“To use your own words, you do realise you’re making little to no sense, right?” Draco said.

“Many muggles believe that the earth and everything on it was created by God – an all-knowing deity who sits in the sky controlling everything.”

“Okaaay,” Draco said slowly. “But then, who is Mary?”

“The mother of Jesus; God’s son.”

“So, God’s wife?”

“No, Jesus was conceived by The Holy Spirit, who is also God. Mary was married to Joseph.”

“I won’t even pretend to understand what you’re on about,” Draco said matter-of-factly and resumed walking, his fingers firmly entwined with Harry’s.

“Do you worship God, too?” Draco asked after a while.

“I hardly can, can I?” Harry said. “According to God, there’s no such thing as ‘good’ magic. Magic is a thing of Satan – he’s God’s arch-enemy,” he hurriedly added, before Draco could ask, “– plus, God also frowns upon same sex relationships. I like the idea, though, that there’s a larger something that created everything.”

“But… If he doesn’t want same sex relationships, why do you call out to him when we’re having sex?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s a bit like when we say ‘Merlin’.”

“Alright, but –“ Draco began, but Harry interrupted him.

“It’s going to take way too much time explaining it all and I’m not sure I can do it all that well. I think you’d get more from reading some books on it. There’s plenty to find, I assure you. Or ask Hermione.”

“Huh,” Draco answered, and they walked on.

After a while Draco pointed towards a Starbucks. “What’s that? There are a lot of those, too.”

“Merlin, you ask a lot of questions,” Harry said, a little too exasperatedly. He felt Draco flinch a little and immediately felt guilty. He hadn’t meant it like that.

“Sorry,” Draco said.

“No, I’m sorry,” Harry answered. He stopped walking and pulled Draco in for a hug. “I tend to forget that you know next to nothing about the muggle world.”

“Yeah,” Draco answered quietly.

“I’m Sorry,” Harry said again and was relieved when Draco hugged him back tightly.

It had been light out when they headed out for their walk and was now dark, except for the vast amount of light from the shops and apartments in the area. Harry’s feet were getting sore and his nose and chin were numb from the cold.

“Let’s apparate back,” he said, and Draco agreed without need for persuasion.

They looked around to find an alley to apparate from and within seconds they were back at Grimmauld Place, standing on the front steps of number 12. Before they went in Draco looked around to make sure they were alone, before he pressed his lips to Harry’s.

“Thank you for a lovely day, Harry,” he said.

“I’m sorry I was a prat,” Harry answered, still feeling embarrassed and guilty at the fact that he had acted so impatiently with Draco.

“You weren’t a prat,” Draco reassured. “You just forgot I’m completely new to this whole muggle thing. It’s okay.” He pulled Harry in for another hug. Draco was resting his cheek on Harry’s shoulder and Harry was sniffing Draco’s hair. Again. It was a habit he had picked up, sniffing Draco’s hair, and one he didn’t intend breaking anytime soon. Some people might call it creepy. Harry wasn’t one of them.

“You really are my favourite person,” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear. He was certain he felt Draco smile against his neck.

**28 th December (Saturday)**

“Mrs. Malfoy?” Harry said as they sat at the kitchen table three days after Christmas, enjoying an afternoon cuppa along with a plate of biscuits Kreacher had laid out for them. He had, diplomatically, included Mrs. Malfoy’s baked goods.

Mrs. Malfoy looked up and met his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

Harry was for some reason slightly nervous. “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to steal Draco away for the evening.”

She looked at him questioningly, and Harry belatedly realised that he had just made it sound as if he was asking her if he could take Draco out on a date. Draco, sitting next to his mother, also looked at him questioningly.

“Uh…” He added quickly and helpfully. “Hermione and Ron are coming too. It’s not, I, uh…” Harry was very aware of the blush creeping up his neck.

Mrs. Malfoy cocked her head. “You are both of age, Mr. Potter,” she said. “I don’t believe you need my permission to take my son out?”

Great. That made it sound even more like a date.

“I…” Harry said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Still,” Mrs. Malfoy continued. “I appreciate you asking. Of course you may take Draco out for the evening.” She smiled at him kindly, and Harry smiled back, still feeling slightly uncomfortable and very warm.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t I get a say?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh…” Harry said again. “Of course. Draco, would you like to go out with me tonight? And Ron and Hermione,” he quickly added,

“I’d love to,” Draco said and sent Harry a big and sincere smile that made his heart flutter. “What are we doing?”

“Now, that’s a surprise,” Harry said, grinning at his boyfriend. “Ron and Hermione are picking us up at half past six.”

“Is there something particular I should wear?” Draco asked.

“No, just wear what you’d normally wear for a d-rink,” Harry said and hoped to Merlin Mrs. Malfoy hadn’t caught on. Though he was fairly certain she liked him, he would still like a little more time to let her get to know him and let her get the impression that he would be a suitable choice of boyfriend for her only son. He suddenly had the thought that, while he hadn’t slipped up and called it a date, he had, in fact, said that he was taking Draco out for a drink. A _drink_. He felt the hairs on the small of his back rise and another blush creeping up his neck. He _really_ didn’t need Mrs. Malfoy thinking he was trying to get Draco drunk.

“A _‘d-rink’_?” Mrs. Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow and the corner of her lips twisting up in what Harry hoped to god was a small smile and not some sort of displeased grimace.

“A non-alcoholic drink, of course,” Harry hurriedly said.

“Of course,” she said, looking disturbingly amused.

Across from Harry Draco snorted a half-laugh into his coffee.

“Manners, Draco,” Mrs. Malfoy said, looking at him sternly.

“Sorry, Mother,” Draco answered.

“Alright boys,” Mrs. Malfoy said as she stood, brushing non-existing crumbs off the front of her dress. “I shall leave you to it. Do let me know when you leave.”

“We will,” Draco answered. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?”

“Please, Draco, I have been alone here for several months. I am sure I can handle one evening. If not, there is always Harry’s present to keep me occupied. Besides, Auror Shacklebolt has invited himself over for a _‘d-rink’_. You needn’t worry about me.”

She left the kitchen, leaving a grinning Harry and a queasy-looking Draco to themselves.

“Relax,” Harry said. “Kingsley’s a good man.”

Draco’s queasiness turned in to a scowl. “He had better be.” After a few moments of digesting the news of his mother having a _‘d-rink’_ with Kingsley, Draco looked at Harry again. “You’re really not going to tell me what it is we’re doing tonight?”

Harry grinned again. “Nope. But don’t worry – it’s new to me, too.”

Draco eyed him suspiciously but didn’t comment further.

 

They were picked up by Ron and Hermione at precisely half past six and all bid Mrs. Malfoy a good evening. Kingsley hadn’t shown up yet, which Harry thought was probably for the best, considering Draco’s protectiveness of his mother.

They apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and walked from there to a muggle restaurant where Hermione had made reservations.

It was a nice restaurant and Harry was thrilled to finally take Draco out on the date he had promised him four weeks ago. Even if it was a double date.

Contrary to what he had told Mrs. Malfoy, they _did_ have wine with their meal. Much to Draco and Ron’s delight no questions had been asked when they ordered the wine Draco had decided would go best with their choice of menu.

Harry didn’t see the big deal in the wine but wisely refrained from telling Draco so. In the end, he and Ron ended up ordering a pint instead, leaving the wine for Draco and Hermione to enjoy.

After finishing the meal Harry paid for all of them. “You can pay for the tickets and popcorn,” he told Ron, who had never been comfortable accepting money from Harry. Ron smiled at him and visibly relaxed.

“Tickets?” Draco asked as they exited the restaurant. “What exactly are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” Harry just said again and took Draco’s hand. “You know how to get there, right, Hermione?”

“Yes,” she answered. “We could walk there if you want. There’s plenty of time and it might leave room for popcorn.”

“What’s popcorn?” Draco asked.

“You’ll see,” Harry answered.

*

They arrived at nine o’clock exactly. The big letters on the front of the building read _‘Prince Charles Cinema’_.

“What is this place?” Draco asked.

“It’s a cinema,” Harry explained. “It shows movies.”

“Oh,” Draco answered. To his Relief Ron looked as if he had never heard of a movie before. “It’s like a theatre play, Ron, in case you were wondering,” he said smugly.

Ron looked at him sceptically, obviously not happy to believe that Draco knew something about the muggle world that _he_ didn’t. Not that Draco knew all that much about movies. Or anything at all. But still.

“So,” Harry said, “I trust you know what to do, Hermione, because I’ve never once been to the cinema.”

Hermione looked at him startled. “Ever?”

“Well, I stood outside one for a couple of hours once when my aunt and uncle and Dudley were watching a movie.”

“Why were you standing outside?” Draco asked, puzzled.

“They didn’t want to waste money on a ticket for me,” Harry explained matter-of-factly. “Also didn’t want to leave me at home in case I took something from the fridge or dirtied the kitchen or something.”

“That’s horrible, Harry,” Hermione said, and Draco and Ron seconded. “What if you had wondered off and got lost?”

“I expect they would have been thrilled. Most likely they were hoping for it,” Harry answered, and Draco was fairly certain that he meant it.

He snaked his arm around Harry’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze, which Harry leaned into.

“So, what are we watching?” Harry asked Hermione, directing the conversation away from the topic of his horrible relatives.

Hermione smiled. “Since you asked me to take care of the pre-booking I took the liberty of deciding on a movie that I would very much like to watch. Titanic.”

Harry groaned. “Hermione, isn’t that a romance?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Which we are watching tonight.”

After a few minor objections and complaints from Harry and Ron, they collected the tickets, which Ron paid for. Hermione gave them each a ticket and told them to go find their seats while she and Ron went to buy drinks and popcorn, whatever that was.

Even though Draco was appalled by Harry’s poor upbringing and non-existent childhood, he couldn’t help but feel good about the fact that Harry had also never been to a cinema before. It made him feel less out of place.

They went to find their seats, which were on the back row. Eventually Hermione and Ron joined them, arms laden with large beakers with straws and paper bags full of something white and fluffy looking. Popcorn, he supposed.

“How on earth did you manage to carry all that?” Harry asked.

Hermione blushed and whispered, “minor balancing charm. Don’t tell anyone.” She passed Draco and Harry a cup each. “Put it in the cup-holder next to your seat.” Draco looked to the side and saw a sort of hoop whose hole seemed to fit the size of the beaker. He put the beaker in the hole.

Hermione then passed one of the bags of popcorn for him and Harry to share. She and Ron then proceeded to take their seat. Draco sat on Harry’s left and Hermione on Harry’s right with Ron on her other side. Other than the four of them, the row was empty.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and sound boomed from the big screen in front of them, taking Draco by surprise. He yelped and jumped in his seat, and he could hear Harry chuckle quietly.

Harry leaned in. “ _There’s going to be a lot of loud noises, just so you’re warned. And please don’t begin commenting on it when it starts. Talking during a cinema movie is frowned upon_ ,” he whispered.

 _“A lot of things are frowned upon in muggle society,”_ Draco whispered back.

 _“Yes,”_ Harry agreed. _“Try some popcorn.”_

Draco looked down at the bag of popcorn in Harry’s lap and took one. He stuck his tongue out and tentatively licked it. It was salty and not much else. He put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly. It was _very_ salty – so salty he couldn’t help a small cough.

_“Do you like it?”_

Draco swallowed _. “It’s certainly salty,”_ he whispered back, not answering the question.

_“Take a sip of your coke. That’s sweet.”_

Draco put his lips around the straw, took a sip and nearly choked on it. _“Merlin that’s sweet. And prickly.”_

_“Do you like it?”_

_“I’m not quite sure,”_ Draco answered. _“I think I prefer water.”_

*

The lights dimmed and the movie started. Harry looked to the side at Draco who was captivated from the beginning. Then he looked to his other side to see Ron sitting with his mouth open and staring at the screen.

 

As Jack and Fabrizio boarded the ship Harry snuck his hand over to rest on Draco’s thigh. There was absolutely no reaction. He slid it up Draco’s thigh slowly and let it rest in his lap, giving his cock a light squeeze.

Draco batted his hand away. _“Not now, Harry, I’m watching the movie,”_ he whispered.

 _“Are you serious?”_ Harry asked. _“We haven’t done anything for a week.”_

 _“And whose fault is that?”_ Draco asked rhetorically. _“Now kindly remove your hand and pay attention.”_

Harry let out a small groan but acquiesced. Instead he took Draco’s hand and entwined their fingers, letting their hands rest on the armrest. Draco looked to the side and gave Harry a small smile before he looked back at the screen, once again completely captivated.

 _“It suits your mother better,”_ Harry whispered as Rose was presented with The Heart of the Ocean that was remarkably alike to the necklace Draco had given his mother for Christmas. He looked to the side and could see Draco smiling in the dark.

The movie went on. Occasionally Draco would gasp, cover his eyes with his free hand or squeeze Harry’s hand tight.

 _“Because it’s the middle of the movie, Ron,”_ he heard Hermione hiss as Jack and Rose were in the middle of lovemaking in a car, and Harry thought Ron had perhaps had the same idea he had at the beginning of the movie.

That is, until he heard Ron whisper back, _“but I don’t know how to handle muggle money. And I’m thirsty. And I want more popcorn.”_

 _“We are_ not _leaving the movie,”_ Hermione hissed. _“Go yourself or stay here.”_

 _“But, Hermione,”_ Ron continued

Draco’s free arm suddenly reached across Harry, drink in hand.

 _“Take this, Weasley.”_ Ron accepted the beaker. _“Harry, give him the popcorn,”_ Draco continued, and Harry did.

 _“Now shut the fuck up, Weasley,”_ Draco hissed, and Hermione let out a small giggle.

Harry looked at him fondly as he turned his attention to the movie once more.

When the boat broke in half Harry heard a sniffle from each side of him.

 _“Are you crying?”_ he asked Draco.

 _“No.”_ Draco’s voice was thick, even in a whisper, and he sniffled again. _“It’s allergies.”_

 _“Okay,”_ Harry whispered back. He squeezed Draco’s hand and Draco squeezed back without answering.

Harry looked to his other side where Ron’s arm was resting over Hermione’s shoulders. Her breath was ragged and she was sniffling as well. Ron’s head was poking up over Hermione’s, and Harry caught his eye. Ron looked at Draco and then back to Harry with his brows raised as a silent _‘him, too?’_ , and Harry nodded. They grinned at each other, and Harry directed his attention to the movie.

 

“So, how did you like it?” Harry asked Draco when the movie had finished and they were once again outside.

“It was sad,” Draco answered. “I can’t believe they’d make a story that didn’t end happily.”

“Not all stories end happily,” Hermione said. “Shakespeare is quite famous for his tragedies. Romeo and Juliet for instance. It’s about…”

“I know bloody Romeo and Juliet, Hermione,” Draco interrupted. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Besides, Shakespeare was a wizard. I just figured muggles were less inclined to making tragedies. For some reason.”

“It’s actually authentic,” Harry told him. “All those people really died.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and he looked horrified. “They died? That’s barbaric.”

Harry frowned. “It was an accident. It’s not like they did it on purpose.”

“But… That has to be more than a thousand actors.”

Oh. “Not the actors. It’s like a re-enactment. Of sorts.”

“Oh. But people died at some point, then.”

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“I’m never going sailing,” Draco stated matter-of-factly, and Harry kissed his cheek.

“What did you think about it, Ron?” Harry asked.

“Well, it was certainly a new experience but a bit too romantic for my taste, I think. And long.”

“Ronald, you’re such a… I don’t even know what to call you,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “I thought it was beautiful.”

“You just liked it because of that actor,” Ron answered.

Even in the dim light of the lamppost Hermione’s blush was visible. “Shut up, Ronald. Let’s go home.” She turned to Harry and Draco. “See you at New Year’s.”

Hugs were exchanged; on Harry’s part with both Ron and Hermione – on Draco’s part just with Hermione (he could hardly oppose to bodily contact with a woman who had been on the receiving end of a backrub), as Draco was still a little hesitant about too much bodily contact with Ron, and therefore instead gave and received an awkward shoulder slap that made Hermione roll her eyes.

*

When they got home the house was quiet. The door to the living room was slightly ajar and soft light was visible through the crack.

The date with Harry (and Ron and Hermione) had taken Draco’s mind off the fact that his mother was meeting with Auror Shacklebolt, but it was now back full force. He narrowed his eyes and walked from the hallway to the living room in quick, firm steps, determined to protect his mother’s virtue.

He opened the door, only to see his mother and Auror Shacklebolt sitting way too close on the sofa in front of the fireplace. He cleared his throat loudly. Auror Shacklebolt did have the decency to quickly scoot away from his mother, leaving _slightly_ more acceptable space between them.

His mother turned in her seat and smiled at him softly. “Did you have a nice evening?” she asked.

Shacklebolt had turned in his seat as well and was looking at Draco with a mixture of embarrassment, curiosity and amusement on his face. Draco thought he looked decidedly guilty. He narrowed his eyes at the Auror and moved further in to the room, sitting down in one of the armchairs his mother had bought as part of her redecoration, clearly signalling that he was not going to leave until Shacklebolt did.

He heard a small snort from the doorway and watched Harry walk in, shaking his head slightly with an amused look on his face. Draco narrowed his eyes at him as well, showing his displeasure at Harry’s slight of the seriousness of the situation. Harry moved across the room to sit down in the armchair across from Draco.

“Yes, thank you, Mother,” Draco answered. “We had a very nice evening. How was _your_ evening?” He looked back at Shacklebolt, narrowing his eyes again and conveying, he hoped: ‘ _I’m watching you!’_

“We had a very nice evening, thank you,” his mother answered with a smile.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Draco asked pointedly. He knew he shouldn’t talk to his mother like that and that she would most definitely be displeased with him, but he _had_ to ask.

As suspected she just lifted an eyebrow at him and gave no answer. “Perhaps we should call it a night, Kingsley,” she turned to Shacklebolt and said.

He smiled, nodded and got up. He gave a nod in first Draco’s then Harry’s direction. “Draco. Harry.” He looked back at Draco. “Thank you for lending me your mother for the evening.”

Draco didn’t answer, merely tightened his lips and glared at the Auror, who actually had the audacity to look amused.

His mother walked Shacklebolt to the door and returned a few moments later. She sat down and looked at Draco, clearly unimpressed. “I think you want to watch your manners, Draco,” she said. She didn’t raise her voice. Never had. Except from when he heard her scream at night in the manor. And a few days ago in the kitchen. But even though her voice was soft and gentle, there was no doubt she was displeased with him.

“I don’t trust that man, Mother,” he said through gritted teeth, knowing he was still being impolite.

“Of course you don’t, darling,” his mother said. She walked up to him, cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead. "Even so, I didn’t raise you to be rude to our guests.”

“But he’s not a guest,” Draco said, a little louder than necessary. “It’s not even our house. How can he be _our_ guest when we’re guests ourselves?”

“Uh…” he heard Harry say from across the room.

His mother turned to face him. “Mr. Potter, would you be as kind as to give me a moment with my son?”

“Of course.” Harry got up immediately and left the room.

When the door closed Draco’s mother turned to face him again. “Come sit with me,” she said, and they both moved to the sofa. Draco looked down at his hands which were fidgeting in his lap.

“Draco,” his mother’s voice was soft. “I realise that this is not our house. It is, however, our _home_ for the time being, and as such we are able to have guests. Whom you will be polite to.”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco said quietly.

“Your opposition towards Auror Shacklebolt,” she continued, “is it because of him in particular or because he is _any_ man?”

Draco didn’t answer but continued fidgeting. He hadn’t actually thought about it.

“Is it because you think I am being unfaithful to your father?”

Draco’s head snapped up, and he looked her in the eyes. “ _No!_ ” he said firmly then added more quietly, “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

His mother reached over and took his hands in hers. They were cool and soft. “Draco, I am a grown woman. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And don’t you think that after all we have been through we deserve to live a little?”

“I guess. Just be careful, okay?”

“I am, darling. And I could say the same to you.”

Draco blushed. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“I am not blind, Draco,” she just said and kissed his forehead again. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour when Auror Shacklebolt next comes to visit. And he _will_ come to visit.”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco said.

His mother got up and brushed the front of her dress. “Good night, my Dragon,” she said tenderly. Then she turned and left the room.

“Good night, Mother,” he answered.

He didn’t get up, but sat staring into the fire, whose flames had got smaller as they talked. After a while he felt arms embrace his shoulders from behind and a kiss being placed on top of his head. There was a lot of kissing his head this evening.

“Hey, you,” Harry said from behind him.

“Hey,” Draco answered.

Harry let go of Draco and went to sit next to him. “Your mother came to see me in the kitchen. Said you might want company.” He slid his arm around Draco’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze.

Draco didn’t answer but leaned in to the embrace and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Kingsley is a good man,” Harry said after a while. “And your mother is a strong woman. She’ll be fine.”

“It’s weird,” Draco just answered.

“And she’s right, you know; this _is_ her home for the time being. And yours. You both have every right to have guests.”

Draco didn’t answer that either. He still felt somewhat indebted to Harry sometimes, for housing them. And embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to provide a safe place for his mother himself.

“I think she knows about us,” he said after a while.

He felt Harry’s head turn and could hear the frown in his voice. “How could she possibly know about us? We haven’t done anything since we got here.”

“And not by choice on my part, I assure you,” Draco said, a bit more snappish than he had intended.

“I know,” Harry answered quietly. “I just really, really want her to like me. And because she _wants_ to – not because she feels obligated to.”

Draco sighed. “Hufflepuff.”

“Arse,” Harry retorted immediately. He retracted his arm and turned to face Draco, propping his knee up on the sofa.

Draco sat up straight again and kept looking into the fire. Harry grabbed hold of his chin and nudged it so Draco was facing him. Then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Draco’s lips. Draco responded immediately, not wanting to pass on the chance. He slid his tongue over Harry’s lower lip and nibbled at it gently, causing Harry to open his mouth slightly in response. Draco slid his tongue into Harry’s mouth and touched Harry’s with his. Harry opened up further and responded by massaging Draco’s tongue with his. He pulled Draco closer and held on tight.

Draco started leaning back, pulling Harry with him, until they were both lying down; Draco on his back with Harry on top of him. Harry let out a small moany sound in the back of his throat as Draco nudged his knee up between his legs, putting pressure on the growing bulge.

 _“Draco, stop,”_ he whispered throatily. _“We can’t.”_

 _“Yes we can,”_ Draco whispered back. _“Please, Harry. Just this once.”_ He ground his knee between Harry’s legs harder, eliciting another soft moan, and Harry involuntarily thrust his hips forward, creating further friction to both himself and Draco.

 _“Okay,”_ Harry whispered airily and they began frantically unbuckling belts and undoing buttons.

Harry lifted his hips a little and put his weight on his elbow, which was resting next to Draco on the sofa. The second Harry managed to open Draco’s trousers he pulled at them to gain better access. He then reached in to Draco’s shorts and pulled out his hard and leaking cock. Having finally managed to get Harry’s trousers open Draco copied him, reaching into Harry’s shorts and pulling out his cock. He ran his palm over the head to use the pre-come as lubrication, and Harry shivered at the touch.

 _“Not… going… to last long,”_ Harry stuttered as Draco started pumping his fist. Harry’s hand had stopped moving and was just holding on tight to Draco’s cock as he lay thrusting into Draco’s hand.

It was true. Harry didn’t last long. Half a minute tops, Draco thought, and he wondered if Harry’s no-sex-in-the-house-rule involved wanking as well. It certainly hadn’t on Draco’s part.

As soon as Harry recovered from his orgasm he captured Draco’s mouth with his as he mumbled a muffled ‘sorry ‘bout that’ against Draco’s lips. He began working Draco’s cock again but stopped after only a few moments. He sat up, much to Draco’s displeasure.

 _“Want to taste you,”_ Harry whispered and quickly moved downwards, stopping as his lips touched the head of Draco’s cock.

Draco whimpered in a manner that would have been embarrassing if he didn’t happen to know that Harry found his noises very arousing – though Draco had no idea why.

Harry placed a small lick on the slit and Draco’s hips involuntarily thrust upwards. Harry moved his hands to hold Draco’s hips down and proceeded to take the head in his mouth, suckling on it and twirling his tongue around it like a lollipop. He removed his mouth with a small _‘pop’_ , instead placing a long lick from the base of the shaft to the tip and back to the base. He did this several times, until he finally, _finally_ , opened his mouth over Draco’s cock and swallowed him down. Draco let out a long moan, and Harry squeezed his hips as if to tell him to be quiet. Harry hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard as he moved his head up again all the way to the head, and once again placed a lick on the slit. He took one hand and began fondling Draco’s balls, occasionally massaging his perineum with his middle finger, holding on to Draco’s hip with only one hand, preventing him from thrusting into his mouth.

When Draco buried his hands in Harry’s hair, Harry began bobbing his head up and down, sucking hard and applying pressure with his tongue up and down the shaft.

Having wanked in the shower in the morning, Draco lasted considerably longer than Harry, though it wasn’t what one would call a long time. His whimpers soon became shallower and even more high-pitched. When Harry removed his hand from his hip and allowed Draco to start thrusting into his mouth, Draco came undone, holding on to Harry’s head, holding him in place. When Harry groaned around his cock, Draco felt the pressure build in his lower belly, and his balls tightened up. He threw an arm over his mouth, the other still buried in Harry’s hair, and bit down on it to prevent a loud groan as he came into Harry’s mouth.

Harry kept sucking him clean, until Draco loosened the grip in his hair and let his arm drop onto the sofa. Panting, he opened his eyes and looked at Harry who was sitting between his legs, a goofy smile on his lips and with a small trickle of come on his chin.

“You have…” Draco said and touched his own chin.

“Oh.” Harry took a finger and wiped at his chin, removing the come. He sucked his finger into his mouth and hummed as he licked it clean. “Good?” he asked.

“Fantastic,” Draco said and smiled at him. “Does this mean we’re cancelling your stupid rule?”

“Nope,” Harry said, grinning. “For the moment. I’ll take it up for consideration at a later date.”

“Prick,” Draco retorted drily.

They suddenly heard a shuffling noise from the corner of the room and both snapped their heads in the direction of the sound. In the shadows of the corner, Kreacher was standing with a dust cloth, looking as sour as ever.

_“Master is defiling the magnificent descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Master is trying to eat the Malfoy boy – a wizard of the purest blood, but Master has not succeeded. Oh no, Kreacher’s master is inferior and will never succeed when he tries to bring down the wizards of the purest blood.”_

“Hello, Kreacher,” Harry said loudly and Kreacher jumped in surprise.

“Is Master wanting anything from Kreacher?” he asked in his croaking voice.

“I’d like you to shut up for once. And stop the bloody mumbling.”

Kreacher’s lips shut tight and he made a motion Draco thought was supposed to be a small reluctant bow.

_“Master orders Kreacher to be quiet, so Kreacher must be quiet. Kreacher is not wanting to talk to Master anyway – filthy half-blood. Kreacher would like to take orders from the beautiful Malfoy boy. Kreacher wants to look at the Malfoy boy’s hair in the moonlight and stroke it in his sleep.”_

Draco gasped and a chill ran down his back. “Harry, tell him he can’t come in my room.”

Harry looked repulsed. “Kreacher, I forbid you to enter Draco Malfoy’s room unless he explicitly asks for you by name.”

Kreacher bowed to indicate that he had understood the order, but glared at Harry who just rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said.

Draco nodded and they both left the living room and headed up the stairs. Outside Draco’s door Harry looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around (which was stupid, because there were only three people and two house elves in the house, and his mother was certainly not one to stand skulking in the shadows, Bilbo was discreet, and the other elf had already seen Harry ‘trying to eat’ Draco), before kissing him softly on the lips.

“Good night,” Harry said.

“Night,” Draco answered, and Harry walked to his own room.

 

**29 th December (Sunday)**

In the morning, after breakfast, Harry set to work trying to connect the DVD player to the TV. It turned out to be harder than he had initially thought because, though it was connected directly to the TV, it also needed to go in a socket. And, as Draco had previously mentioned, the house didn’t have any.

After several tries, a series of swearwords and a minor scolding from Mrs. Malfoy for using such atrocious language, Mrs. Malfoy muttered something about ‘stubborn boys’ before she went to floo call Kingsley to get him to help, as he had already helped her with the installation of the TV. He got the job done embarrassingly quickly, Harry thought, and afterwards sat in the kitchen to take tea and chat with Mrs. Malfoy, much to Draco’s annoyance. Harry really didn’t see what anyone could possibly have against Kingsley, but then again; Harry didn’t have a mother to be protective of.

Harry and Draco spent the rest of the day lying on the sofa and watching BBC’s Pride and Prejudice. Harry was fairly certain that Draco enjoyed it vastly more than he did, and he was quite content watching Draco instead of the TV the majority of the time.

They had started out sitting in the sofa – together, but with a distance between them that signalled ‘friends’, not ‘lovers’ – but were now laying down in each their end of it with their heads on the armrests and their legs entwined to be comfortable. Harry had considered moving to sit up again or move to one of the armchairs in case Mrs. Malfoy should walk in, but only for a brief moment; he could lie innocently on a sofa with his friend if he wanted to. Besides, Mrs. Malfoy was occupied with Kingsley elsewhere and probably would be for quite some time.

 

**30 th December (Monday)**

Harry was in the kitchen when the floo flared.

 _“What the_ fuck _do you want?”_ he heard Draco exclaim loudly from the living room.

Harry hurried in to the living room to save whichever unlucky guest was on the receiving end of Draco’s apparent fury.

Whoever he had imagined had come to visit, this guest wasn’t it. Still, it did explain Draco’s strong-worded reaction.

“Hello Ginny,” Harry said calmly. “To repeat Draco’s inquiry: What the fuck do you want?”

Ginny glanced to the side, eyeing Draco warily. Harry couldn’t blame her; he looked quite threatening – eyes cold and stormy, a deep scowl somehow combined with a sneer, and his wand hand twitching.

Harry raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well?”

“I…” she said, clutching one arm with the other hand in a sort of half self-hug. “I would be very happy if you would agree to listen to me. Please,” she said quietly.

Harry bit his lip and looked from Ginny to Draco to Ginny and then to Draco again. Draco’s hands were now propped on his hips and his eyebrows raised, leaving no question as to what his opinion was on that request. Harry was torn between asking her to fuck off and agreeing to listen to her. He was certain that Draco would be less than pleased if he agreed to hear her out. On the other hand he _had_ decided – after Hermione’s repeated statements of his hypocrisy – to act less hypocritical, which would mean hearing Ginny out.

He settled on “Um…” and looked from his ex-girlfriend to his boyfriend again.

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry. I can tell you want to.”

“Please, Harry,” Ginny pleaded.

Harry sighed. “Fine.”

Ginny looked relieved. Still, she struggled not to look gloating as she looked at Draco. “Now fuck off, Malfoy.” Her eyes darted to Harry immediately and she added, more quietly, and obviously reluctantly, “please.”

“Draco stays,” Harry said, gesturing for Ginny to sit down in an armchair, and leaving no room for argument on the matter. He sat himself on the sofa across from her and patted the cushion next to him to get Draco to join him.

Draco looked insulted and annoyed but joined him on the sofa even so. Harry leaned in to whisper, _“listen, you can huff and puff later, but I’d really like it if you’d stay here.”_ Draco huffed, and Harry leaned in again, grazing his earlobe as he whispered, _“I’ll rub you off in the tool shed if you stay.”_

Draco turned in his seat and narrowed his eyes. “Make it a blow job and I’ll agree,” he said drily. His voice was low but clearly audible, making Harry blush at the fact that Ginny was right there and able to hear him.

“Fine,” he agreed. He turned his attention to Ginny again, who, untrue to form, was also blushing some. “So, what is it that you want?”

“I wanted to apologise,” she said after a couple of moments.

“Wow,” Harry said drily. “This is just like déjà vu. So, what’s it going to be this time? Are you going to show me pictures of Draco’s made-up infidelity? Or perhaps recordings? Love letters?”

Ginny bit her lips, looking down. “No, this time I really do want to apologise. To Malfoy, too, I suppose, if I must. I was trying to apologise that time in your common room when Malfoy came barging in and interrupted.”

“I am _not_ apologising for that,” Draco said firmly.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she spat.

Draco crossed his arms again and looked away from Harry and Ginny.

“So, apologise and we can all get on with things we’d rather do,” Harry said.

Ginny looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Harry waited. Obviously there had to be more to the apology than ‘I’m sorry’.

“That’s it?” he asked incredulously when Ginny didn’t continue.

“Well, yeah.” Ginny looked confused. “What else do you want me to say? I really am sorry.”

“How about a fucking explanation? Or a definition on what you’re actually sorry about?”

Ginny cringed. “I talked to mum,” she said. “Apparently the female side of the family is prone to mental instability. Apparently it manifests at some point in our teenage years. For some reason, she didn’t see fit to tell me before it happened.”

“That would certainly explain a lot,” Harry said drily. Next to him, Draco snorted loudly and Ginny shot him an annoyed glare. “Your mother seems quite normal, though” Harry continued, not quite sure if he should believe her.

Ginny raised a brow in disbelief. “Really? Does sending a howler announcing details of your daughter’s indiscretions to a whole school full of underage witches and wizards at the most public time possible with every student and professor present, sound like the actions of a mentally stable person? Not to mention the force feeding. And I’m sure Ron has told you about our Aunt Muriel.”

Harry saw the point.

“So you’re insane,” Draco snapped. “We already knew that.”

“Shut up, _Malfoy_ ,” Ginny spat back.

Harry put his hand on Draco’s knee and gave it a light squeeze. “Draco has every right to be upset with you, Ginny. You’ve been a bitch.”

“I know. Sorry,” she looked down at her hands.

“What exactly are you sorry _for_?” Harry asked.

Ginny sighed. “Right. I’m sorry I cheated on you. Mostly.  And I’m sorry I forced you to do those things that time. And I’m sorry I locked you in the ingredients’ cupboard.” She looked him in the eyes as she hesitated. “But mostly I’m so very, very sorry for saying that thing about you and your parents. I don’t really think you got them killed. I need you to know that. I just wanted to hurt you.”

Harry swallowed and cleared his throat. “And Draco?” Harry said to her.

“Yeah.” She directed her eyes to Draco, although she didn’t look right at him. “I’m sorry I set you up. But only because it hurt Harry, mind. I don’t even remotely like you.”

“Well poor me,” Draco mocked.

“Shut up, you fucking prick,” Ginny said. “I’m apologising, okay?”

“Whatever,” Draco said. He turned away from her again, looking at nothing in particular.

Something suddenly dawned on Harry. “Wait a second,” he said, frowning. “What do you mean you’re _mostly_ sorry about cheating? Who are you not sorry about?”

Ginny looked him square in the eyes. “Neville,” she said. “I’m not sorry about Neville.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Okay.” It shouldn’t really be a surprise to him.

“He can handle me,” she explained. “He doesn’t put up with my shit. He’s… I really like him a lot, Harry.”

“Well,” Harry said, “I happen to know that he likes you, too.”

“I know he does,” she answered with a small smile. “He doesn’t want to start anything with me until I get some sort of help.”

“That’s very sensible of him,” Harry said in approval.

Draco huffed. “I think we’ve established on numerous occasions that Longbottom is, against all logic, a sensible person. It’s getting tiresome.”

Ginny glared at him. “Shut up, you fucking arsehole. He’s worth ten of you. At least.”

“Fuck off, Weaselette,” Draco spat back. Then he looked to the side and started muttering under his breath. Harry caught words like _‘fucking cunt’, ‘manipulative bitch, ‘pathetic lunatic’, ‘freckled freak’_ and several more, which, wisely, he chose to ignore.

Ginny snorted as she looked at Draco muttering away. “He’s been spending too much time with Kreacher, Harry.” Then, directed at Draco, “You’ve been spending too much time with Kreacher, Malfoy. All cooped up in here all day long. Afraid to leave the house are we – having pissed off the wrong sort? Hiding like a coward.”

Draco stood up, shaking with anger and pulling out his wand. Harry hurriedly stood as well and moved to stand half in front of Draco.

 _“Enough, Ginny,”_ Harry said loudly. “You are _out_ of line!”

Ginny looked at him defiantly but soon looked down, chewing the inside of her cheek, obviously torn between a desire to start an argument and restraining herself.

“Enough,” Harry said again. He figured the smartest thing would be to get Ginny to leave as quickly as possible. “Alright, well, _I_ apologise for not being better at talking to you. And for doing stuff with Draco behind your back. I guess.”

“Oh.” Ginny sounded surprised at the apology. “Thank you. Apology accepted. So, do you accept my apology?”

“In time,” Harry said and gestured to the fireplace, suggesting the visit was over.

“That will have to do, then,” Ginny said, sounding a little disappointed.

Luckily she didn’t move to give Harry a hug, merely put her hand on his upper arm and gave it a light squeeze. Then she turned and walked to the floo.

“Say hi to the others for me,” Harry called after her as she threw the floo powder.

He turned to the side, ready to face the wrath of Draco. However, instead of the verbal shit storm he had been expecting, he was grabbed and dragged by the front of his jumper through the hall and out the back door, across the snow covered garden and into the tool shed.

“On your knees,” Draco growled and pushed down on Harry’s shoulder with one hand, pushing him to his knees, as he unfastened the clasp and fly of his slacks with the other with impressive speed, pulling out his cock.

Harry almost toppled over as he fell to his knees in front of Draco and had to support himself with his hands on Draco’s thighs. Okay, so Draco may have been more annoyed with Harry for agreeing to listen to Ginny than Harry had first assumed, he thought as Draco pushed his cock into Harry’s mouth with no warning and immediately started thrusting, his fists balled tightly in Harry’s hair and pushing at the back of his head, setting the pace.

The only sounds in the shed were the slopping sounds of Draco’s cock thrusting into Harry’s mouth, Draco’s panting and Harry’s occasional grunts as he attempted to breathe, or gagging when Draco made a particularly deep thrust. Pre come and spit trickled down Harry’s chin. His hands were firmly placed on Draco’s arse and Harry was squeezing his buttocks hard. He supposed he should have found it unpleasant; having his mouth fucked like that. Fact was, though, that he found it an incredible turn-on and his own prick ached to be touched. He moved one hand between his own legs, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. Draco’s unrelenting thrusting made it difficult, but he eventually succeeded. He then took a firm hold of his cock and frantically began working it.

Draco’s gasps and panting increased steadily until he pushed hard at the back of Harry’s head, burying himself in Harry’s throat and groaning loudly as he came hard. Harry’s hand flew up and down in a blur as he worked himself towards completion as Draco emptied himself into his throat.

Eventually Draco’s grip on Harry’s hair loosened and Harry registered Draco falling back against the wall, still panting. Harry’s hand worked furiously and it only took him a few moments before he came, his come spattering Draco’s trousers in pearly white strands as it shot through the air. His orgasm seemed to go on and on until eventually it subsided. He sat back on his heels and looked up at Draco. Draco reached down and stroked his thumb over Harry’s chin, wiping off a strand of come. He pushed his thumb between Harry’s lips and Harry sucked it clean.

“You’re done with her now,” Draco said.

Harry couldn’t tell whether it was meant as a question or an order. It didn’t really matter either way.

“Yes,” he said and leaned forward, resting his cheek against Draco’s thigh. “I’m done with her now.”

They remained like that for a while; Harry resting his cheek against Draco’s thigh. After a while Draco reached down and placed his hand on Harry’s head, stroking his hair tenderly.

“Sorry,” he said.

Harry looked up. His lips were swollen and red, his hair dishevelled – even more than usual – and his cheeks were flushed. “Don’t be,” Harry told him.

Draco bit one side of his lower lip. He looked guilty. “I didn’t intend to be quite so rough.”

“I didn’t mind,” Harry said earnestly.

Draco gave him a small smile. “You look so hot like this.” He removed his hand from Harry’s hair and tucked himself in, fastening his trousers. Then he squatted in front of Harry and looked him in the eyes. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Harry’s lips. “I’m quite fond of you, you know,” he said.

Harry’s heart fluttered and an army of butterflies saw fit to inhabit his stomach right then. “I’m quite fond of you, too,” he answered.

“And I don’t want to share you,” Draco continued.

“You won’t have to. Ever.”

Draco smiled. Then he stood up. “Tuck yourself in. It’s freezing out here without our coats on, and I am in desperate need of hot chocolate á la Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry tucked himself in and they left the shed. It was snowing, large flakes covering the ground in an even thicker layer of snow. “Hot chocolate on a snowy day, eh? With marshmallows and cinnamon?” Harry teased, referring to the comparison Draco had once made between the sound of Harry’s chuckling and the hot drink.

Draco laughed and nudged Harry’s shoulder with his own as they walked through the snow.

 

**31 st December (Tuesday – New Year’s Eve)**

“Draco,” Shacklebolt said as three o’ clock found them sitting in the living room having early afternoon tea (scattered on armchairs and sofas in front of the fire like savages, instead of at a table – seriously; just a coffee table would do – like civilised people).

Draco and Harry were sitting next to each other on the sofa positioned directly in front of the fire. Draco had hurried to take a seat there so that his mother and that Shacklebolt type would have to sit in separate armchairs. His mother had raised an eyebrow, showing that she knew very well what he was trying to do. He had pretended not to notice.

He looked up. “Yes?”

“Would you permit me to borrow your mother for the evening?” Then the Auror directed his attention to Draco’s mother and said, “I would be very happy if you would spend New Year’s Eve with me, Narcissa.”

Draco didn’t know why Shacklebolt bothered to ask him; his mother would celebrate New Year’s Eve with Shacklebolt if she wanted to, regardless of what Draco said. However, Draco had promised his mother to be polite.

“Of course, Auror Shacklebolt,” he answered and put on a smile that he hoped looked sincere. “That is, if my mother wishes to, of course.”

“Of course,” Shacklebolt answered. Then he looked at Draco’s mother again. “I took the liberty of arranging a private dinner at my flat. I have access to the roof top terrace and there’s the most magnificent view of the fireworks.”

Draco’s mother blushed – _blushed!!!_ – and smiled. “That sounds wonderful, Kingsley.” She looked at the man adoringly and Draco felt nauseous.

“Hang on a second,” Harry said. Frowning, he stood up. Narrowing his eyes at Kingsley suspiciously, he grabbed his wand, which was lying next to his plate balancing on the armrest, and pointed it at Kingsley. “Identify yourself,” he said, keeping eye contact with Shacklebolt.

 _“Mr. Potter,”_ his mother said, outraged, but Harry ignored her. “Put your wand down this instant!” she continued with no effect.

Shacklebolt merely inclined his head at Harry as he lifted both hands into the air to signal he was unarmed, also not breaking eye contact.

“I am Kingsley Shacklebolt; Auror and member of The Order of the Phoenix. I was in Dumbledore’s office when he escaped in front of Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge in your 5th year at Hogwarts after the revelation of Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Common knowledge,” Harry said. “A lot of people were in Dumbledore’s office that evening.”

A small smile ghosted Shacklebolt’s lips. “All right. I was head of the Sirius Black search team and provided false information of his whereabouts. I gave Arthur an issue of The Quibbler with an article on Sirius as Stubby Boardman, on the day of your hearing the summer between your 4th and 5th year.”

Draco and his mother had been watching the interaction with various degrees of astonishment, surprise and outrage, looking from one to the other and back again. His mother was obviously outraged that Harry dared behave in such a rude manner. Draco was outraged with himself because _he_ hadn’t thought to do that. Honestly!

Harry lowered his wand but kept it in hand. “Sorry, Kingsley,” he said. “But you’re not going _any_ where with Mrs. Malfoy until someone else from the Order checks your place.” His eyes didn’t once leave Kingsley’s.

“I am very proud of you, Harry. You will make an excellent Auror,” Shacklebolt said. “Who would you like me to contact?”

“Mr. Weasley,” Harry said promptly. “And Bill. Draco will contact them.”

Automatically Draco got up and bent down in front of the fire to call the Weasley men, who soon after entered through the floo. Shacklebolt willingly subjected to several diagnostic spells to determine whether he had been cursed, subjected to any potions or manipulated in some other way. When it was determined that he was clear, he went with the two order members to clear his flat.

When the three men had left through the floo, Draco’s mother turned towards Harry with a frosty expression on her face. “Explain yourself,” she demanded.

Harry cringed a little before he answered. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. I had to check. Asking you to spend New Year’s Eve alone with him outside the safe house you were assigned is suspicious. Particularly in an Auror. He’s letting himself be controlled by his emotions instead of thinking only of your safety, which is rather the point of being under Order protection. It’s reckless, and I needed to make sure you’ll be safe with him as I obviously can’t force you to stay here.”

Draco’s mother raised her chin a little and gave a small nod. “I suppose that is correct. Please accept my apologies.”

“Also,” Harry continued without reacting to her apology, “I’m in love with your son and I would very much like your permission to date him.”

Draco’s jaw dropped as he stared at Harry, gobsmacked. Harry looked suddenly surprised and not a little bit nervous, as if he hadn’t intended to say it. He opened his mouth and closed it again. A blush spread rapidly on his neck and cheeks.

“Do you need my permission?” his mother asked, cocking an eyebrow and not looking nearly as surprised as Draco thought she ought to have. She looked more surprised at the actual outburst than the contents of it. She could have at least pretended.

“No,” Harry said. “But I should like to know I have it even so.”

A small smile played on Draco’s mother’s lips. “Well then, you have my permission. That is, If Draco wishes to date you.”

“Of course,” Harry said.

He directed his gaze at Draco. “Do you?” he asked. Even though the answer was obviously yes, Harry still looked nervous and somewhat embarrassed.

“Yes,” Draco said and grinned. His old friends, the butterflies, were back full force.

His mother stood and walked over to stand in front of Draco who looked up at her. She placed a hand on his cheek, bent down and kissed his forehead. Then she went to stand in front of Harry who was still sitting next to Draco, looking as if he didn’t really know what to do with himself. Draco’s mother placed a hand on Harry’s cheek and bent down to place a kiss on his forehead as well.

“I will leave you two to it,” she said and walked towards the door. Draco and Harry followed her with their eyes. “I will get myself ready for my dinner with Auror Shacklebolt. That is, unless you have any further objections, Mr. Potter?” She said on her way out the door, not waiting for an answer.

Draco snickered as Harry blushed again. “I…” Harry started.

“She’s teasing you,” Draco explained with a grin. “That’s a good sign.”

Harry looked horrified. “ _Shit_ ,” he said. “Merlin, I can’t believe I just practically assaulted your mother’s boyfriend and then lectured her on the meaning of safe house and protection.” He shook his head. “And I can’t _believe_ I seriously asked her to let me date you. Oh my god,” he groaned and hid his head in his hands, shaking his head.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” Draco said. “That Kingsley character is _not_ my mother’s boyfriend. They are _friends_ and that’s it.”

Harry, head still buried in his hands, laughed, his hands muffling the sound. “You’re in denial, Draco.”

“Shut up,” Draco said. Then he grinned. “So, you’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, afraid so,” Harry answered, looking up and meeting Draco’s eyes. “And your mother said I could date you so there’s no escaping me now.”

Draco scooted closer. He propped his knee up on the sofa, turning towards Harry. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Harry grinned back. “Well thank fuck for that.”

“Does this mean we can skip that stupid rule of yours?”

“No. Absolutely not,” Harry answered.

“But… You said you didn’t want to do anything before my mother knew we were dating.” Draco pouted.

“What I said was that I didn’t want to do anything while under the same roof as your mother. I said I didn’t want your mother to know we were _dating_ before she liked me.”

“Well then,” Draco said, “perhaps we’re lucky and she’ll leave for her appointment before our guests show up.”

Harry just grinned at him. Then he leaned in and kissed Draco on the lips. “I’m just glad I can do this now.”

 

When his mother had bid the two boys a good evening and had been picked up by Shacklebolt to floo to his flat together, Draco turned to look at Harry.

“We are now no longer under the same roof as my mother,” he said. “We will have sex now.”

Harry only smirked. “Not just yet, Draco. I have plans for you.”

The nerve, honestly.

Draco huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking – and feeling – insulted.

“Patience, Draco. We’ll fuck each other raw, don’t worry,” Harry said, “but for now we’ll just get ready for the guests to arrive.”

He hadn’t realised what time it was and suddenly felt a bit panicky at the thought that he had only barely an hour to get ready before their guests would arrive. They were expecting Pansy, Blaise, Hermione and Ron. Draco almost had to laugh at the hilarity of three Slytherins and three Gryffindors spending New Year’s Eve together. By choice.

An hour might be plenty of time for Harry who was currently making another cup of tea in the kitchen, and who most likely considered ‘getting ready’ as splashing some water on the face and putting on a fresh outfit. Draco had to take a proper shower, making sure to make every effort to look and feel delicious to a degree that Harry simply wouldn’t be able to resist his gorgeousness and he would finally – _finally_ – get a much needed fuck.

And so, he went to the bathroom and turned on the water, making it steamy hot.

As he was standing in the shower, running his soapy hands over his body, he felt the budding of an erection and figured he may as well use the opportunity to have a wank before the guests arrived.

As he stood leaning against the wall, one arm supporting his weight as he stroked himself, he suddenly felt a finger trailing down his spine and someone stepping into the shower. The ‘someone’ stepped up close behind him.

“Are you being a naughty boy?” Harry asked in a low and seductive voice?

Draco’s breath hitched as Harry’s finger continued sliding down his spine.

“No,” he answered, his heart already picking up pace.

“I think you are,” Harry said, still in that low, yet deliciously demanding voice. “A naughty boy who touched himself in the shower. A naughty boy who needs to be taught a lesson in patience. Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry let both his hand slide up Draco’s back. When he reached the nape of Draco’s neck he fisted one hand into Draco’s hair while his other hand continued to slide around him, under his arm and onto his chest.

Draco let out a whimper at the pull on his hair that forced his head back and his neck in the near vicinity of Harry’s mouth. Harry’s lips ghosted over his neck and despite the water running over his body Draco could feel Harry’s breath on the soft and sensitive spot of skin behind his earlobe. Harry held on tightly to his hair as he trailed the fingers of his other hand over Draco’s chest and nipples, occasionally giving them a small tweak.

“So, tell me, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry continued, “Do you need to be taught a lesson?” After asking the question, Harry started nibbling up and down Draco’s neck, switching between using his lips, tongue and teeth.

“Yes. I do,” Draco said, sounding slightly out of breath.

“How do we ask?” Harry asked.

“Please teach me a lesson, Mr. Potter.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been a naughty impatient boy touching myself in the shower, Mr. Potter.”

Harry let go of Draco’s hair and let his now free hand run down Draco’s side and over his hip as he continued nibbling and sucking Draco’s neck. Draco let the arm that had been supporting his weight on the wall fall down to rest by his side and moved with Harry as he was pushed up against the wall.

Harry let his hand fall from Draco’s chest and ran it down his side, until both hands were resting on Draco’s hips. He moved his hands backwards to caress the outer part of Draco’s arse cheeks, spreading them slightly. Draco could feel Harry’s hard length resting along his crevice.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said in the same low voice, as Draco tried to move one hand between himself and the wall to touch his aching cock.

Harry let go of Draco’s arse and pulled back a little, while taking hold of Draco’s wrists, leading his hands above his head against the wall. He held on to Draco’s wrists with one hand as he slid the other down Draco’s back. He pulled back a little further and, still holding onto Draco’s wrists with one hand, placed a slap on first one arse cheek, then the other. Draco moaned at the sound and feel of it.

“Keep them there,” Harry said, giving Draco’s wrists a squeeze. Harry let go of his wrists and Draco kept them resting crossed over his head against the tile wall.

Harry started placing wet kisses down Draco’s spine and Draco shivered in anticipation. He sensed Harry getting to his knees behind Draco and expected the feeling of a tongue on his tight entrance. It didn’t come. Instead, Harry placed another slap on his arse cheek that once again made Draco moan lightly. He pushed his arse out slightly to signal that he was ready for Harry to begin the prepping, be it with tongue or fingers.

Eventually he felt a prodding against his hole. It definitely wasn’t a tongue. And also not a finger. He started turning his head over his shoulder to have a look.

“Don’t turn around,” Harry said.

“What are you…” Draco began, still looking over his shoulder. He caught Harry’s eyes.

“Draco, would you rather I didn’t… You know. Would you rather I stopped?” Harry asked seriously and not using that deep captivating voice, and Draco knew that if he _did_ ask Harry to stop this domination thing or whatever it was, he would.

“No,” Draco answered. “I’d rather you didn’t stop. Please. Mr. Potter,”

“Well then, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said, using his Mr. Potter-voice again, “I suggest you stop being contrary and face the wall when I ask you to.”

Draco smiled to himself and turned to face the wall again.

The prodding continued much too slowly for Draco’s liking. He pushed back his arse in an attempt to get on with business faster, but Harry kept taking his stupid time until, _finally_ , the ‘something’ that was neither tongue nor fingers – and also definitely much too small to be Harry’s cock – was fully lodged in Draco’s tightness.

Harry then bit down gently on Draco’s buttock and smoothed it over with his tongue. Then he stood up.

“There,” he said and placed a kiss on Draco’s shoulder. Then he moved back.

“What?” Draco squeaked and looked back at Harry who was smirking at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re being taught a lesson in patience, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry answered.

Draco’s jaw dropped. Could Harry seriously mean that they were not going to finally have that amazing shag Draco had been hoping for so long?

Draco turned around fully. “What do you mean? And what’s in me right now?”

“It’s called a butt plug,” Harry explained. “And you’re going to be wearing it tonight.” He grinned.

“We’re not going to fuck now?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Nope,” Harry confirmed, still grinning. Then his expression changed and slowly he moved up to stand flush up against Draco, front to front. Draco gasped as their cocks touched. Then he leaned in, brushing Draco’s ear with his lips, and said so quietly it was almost a whisper, “You’re going to wear it tonight during dinner. And then, when you’re absolutely ready to burst, I want you to fuck me so hard you’ll be afraid I might break.”

Harry stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hips, the fabric tenting in the front. Then he turned and left. Just as Draco was about to wrap his hand around his cock again, Harry poked his head in and said, “And you’re not going to wank beforehand.” Then he left again without further comment.

Draco was left staring at the closed door in a mixture of disbelief, surprise, annoyance and excitement. He had a feeling he shouldn’t be as excited as he was about the prospect of having an inanimate object lodged in his arse while entertaining guests.

*

The guests showed up at six thirty on the dot. A variety of awkward hellos, handshakes and backslaps were shared – and one unexpected hug that Zabini pulled Hermione in for, squeezing her tightly and stroking her back with one hand. It left Hermione blushing and stuttering and Ron glaring menacingly at Zabini, who retracted with a smile for Hermione.

After the initial awkwardness of the situation – being three Slytherins and three Gryffindors socialising by choice – had settled, both Hermione and Zabini looked perfectly at ease whereas Ron and Parkinson looked slightly uncomfortable.

Harry ended up sitting next to Draco with Ron and Hermione across from them on the other side of the table. Parkinson and Zabini each sat at the end of the table. Zabini had initially taken a seat at the table end nearest Hermione but had quickly offered the seat to Parkinson instead with the insistence that there was obviously a nasty draft in Parkinson’s end and he should take that seat, what with being the perfect gentleman and all. Harry strongly suspected that it had more to do with Ron’s glaring than an actual bout of chivalry. Particularly since there was no draft – the elves would never have allowed it. Draco had initially complained about the fact that the girls were sitting next to each other instead of ‘spread out’ among the men as would be proper, until Parkinson had told him to stop whining since nobody cared anyway. Draco’s answering pout was adorable and Harry pecked him on the cheek.

The elves had prepared an enormous amount of food for them, relishing and taking advantage of the opportunity to serve a proper dinner party. The table was set with an excess of knives, forks, spoons and glasses that Harry had absolutely no idea what to do with. Draco did, obviously, and was practically glowing with the opportunity to do some fine dining.

The first course – or appetiser or whatever one would choose to call it – was oysters served in their shells on a large platter on a bed of crushed ice. There were wedges of lemon placed on the platter among the oysters. Harry’s throat nearly constricted as he eyed the blobs swimming in what he supposed was their own juice. Oyster juice. Harry looked at the others; Draco and Parkinson were practically squealing with delight, Zabini also looked delighted, Hermione looked curious and excited, and Ron’s facial expression, Harry thought, pretty much reflected Harry’s own thoughts on the delicacy.

He was forced by Draco to try one. It was like swallowing a large blob of salty mucus and he happily left the others to it after that. Ron flatly refused so much as sniffing it.

 

The first time Harry pushed the button on the remote control he had hidden in his pocket was during the second course; consommé (which Harry thought was just a poncy way of saying ‘soup’). Draco gave a yelp as he dropped his spoon in his nearly full bowl, effectively splattering the table cloth with soup, which Bilbo immediately cleared up, before retreating to the kitchen to continue bickering with Kreacher. They had been at it most of the holidays but fortunately the bickering seemed to have lessened. Slightly.

Their guests looked up in surprise. Draco was blushing fiercely and blinking rapidly as Harry left the plug vibrating at a slow pace.

“Um,” he said. Then he cleared his throat, lightly clanged his knife on the crystal glass, stood up and made a toast to the evening, then sat down and picked up his spoon and continued eating as the light chatter, which, to Harry’s joy, was flowing easily, continued.

Harry continued to alternate between upping the pace of the vibrations and turning it off completely, enjoying the little gasps that sometimes escaped Draco.

Adding to the oysters and consommé they ate their way through some sort of poached fish, filet mignon and pheasant (luckily the helpings were small). Harry had just turned the volume up to full speed when Draco loudly put down his silverware and looked at him. He had been quiet for a while, save ragged breathing and small occasional whimpers concealed more or less successfully by several clearings of the throat. There was a light sheen of sweat plastering his forehead. His cheeks were pink, his pupils dilated, and his breath shallow.

“Enough, Harry. No more,” he said.

The chatter between the other four people present at the table came to a halt as they all directed their attention to Harry and Draco.

“No more what? Draco, are you all right?” Hermione asked.

Neither Harry nor Draco answered. Draco’s hands were resting flat on the table and he was squirming in his seat. His eyes were now shut tight and his teeth were digging in to his lower lip. Once again, Harry had to wonder what the fuck part of his brain could be malfunctioning, in order for him to find it so fucking hot to watch Draco fall apart in the presence of their friends – and which twisted part of his mind it was that told him that seeing Draco come right then and there would be even more hot.

He shifted in his seat, not for the first time that evening trying to discretely adjust himself by simply moving around a bit, and resisted the temptation to move his hand down under the table and press the heel of his hand against his aching erection.

“Oh, Potter, honestly,” Parkinson said, catching on after a few moments of silence. She smirked and shook her head in amused disbelief.

“What?” Ron said. “I don’t get it. What’s going on?”

More silence followed.

“Please?” Draco said through gritted teeth.

Zabini burst out laughing loudly and out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Hermione and Ron turn their heads to look at him, then direct their attention to Harry and Draco once again.

“Oh, Harry, honestly,” Hermione parroted Parkinson when the penny finally dropped after yet another moment’s silence.

Harry cleared his throat. “Might I persuade you to join me in the tool shed, Draco?” he asked. “There is an urgent matter I need your help with.”

Harry had barely finished talking before Draco exited his seat and all but ran towards the kitchen to exit through the back door into the garden. They didn’t make it to the tool shed. Once outside Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pushed him up against the cold brick wall. He latched on to Harry’s neck, kissing and sucking hard. Harry threw his head back and enjoyed Draco’s touch to the sensitive areas on his neck and collarbone; the suction on the verge of being painful, but deliciously so. Draco’s leg was resting between Harry’s slightly parted legs, and his thigh pressing against Harry’s erection.

“You’re a prick,” Draco growled into the crook of Harry’s neck, before he spun him around to stand with his front against the wall. Harry put his hands on the wall to support himself.

“Lube’s in my pocket,” he panted.

 Draco retrieved the little tube of lube from Harry’s pocket and yanked down his trousers and pants.

He coated his fingers and made quick work of prepping Harry, and soon lined himself up behind him. Harry winced as Draco pushed in slowly in one go. When he was fully sheathed he leaned over Harry, pressing his chest against Harry’s back and trying to hold as still as possible.

“You’re a fucking tease.” Draco reached under him and twisted his nipple, making Harry gasp. “Do you have any idea how distracting that thing is?”

Harry suddenly remembered that he hadn’t turned off the remote control, and reached into his pocket to switch off the plug that was still vibrating happily in Draco’s arse.

“Don’t you fucking dare turn that off, Potter.” Harry quickly retracted his hand and Draco started moving.

*

It was a quick, hard, rough fuck, void of tenderness and caresses – only pounding and bruising grips on hips, accompanied by the sounds of the slapping of skin against skin, rhythmic panting and loud moans that seemed to echo in the quiet night.

When they were both spent and Harry had turned off the vibrations of the plug and Draco gingerly pulled it out and tossed it on the ground for Harry to deal with, Draco slouched over Harry who was still supporting his weight with his arms on the wall, chest against back, using him for support, and burying his nose in the crook of Harry’s neck, taking in his scent. He put his arms around Harry and squeezed him tightly, sighing contentedly.

Harry let out a soft chuckle. “Well, shit,” he said.

“What?” Draco asked as Harry didn’t continue.

“I think I’m in trouble,” Harry answered.

“How so?” Draco asked with a frown.

Harry was quiet for a moment. “I’m not just in love with you.”

Draco couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips against Harry’s neck.

“Is that your slightly awkward Gryffindor way of telling me you love me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted.

Draco’s smile widened. “I’m not just in love with you either,” he mumbled.

“Is that your slightly awkward Slytherin way of telling me you love me?”

“No, I’m just making sure your Gryffindor brain understands what I’m saying.”

Harry snorted then turned around to face Draco. He put his arms around Draco’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Draco’s lips were captured by Harry’s. The kiss was slow and full of promises, and Draco’s whole body tickled all the way from head to toe.

“As nice as this is,” Harry said as he broke the kiss after a while, “My arse is freezing.”

Draco backed away and took in the sight of Harry standing in the snow with his trousers and pants still around his ankles and the tip of his half hard cock visible under the hem of his shirt.

“Don’t you look charming,” Draco managed, unsuccessfully supressing a laugh.

“You’re one to talk,” Harry said, gesturing towards Draco’s undone trousers and also half hard cock peeking out from under his shirt.

“Well, at least I don’t have come running down my thighs,” Draco retorted.

“I actually think it may have turned into icicles,” Harry mused and reached behind himself to feel the back of his own thigh.

“Yes, yes, you’re both very pretty,” Pansy’s voice sounded drily from behind Harry. “Are you coming inside or what? The elves are distressing over the canapés. Apparently etiquette demands that it can only take so long between two courses.” Then she turned around to walk inside again. “Nice arse, Potter,” she said as she went inside.

Harry blushed fiercely and Draco snickered.

They went back inside to oblige the poor house elves who were, indeed, fretting over the canapés that needed serving and the apparently too big time span that had been between the previous course and this one.

They moved on, from canapés to a selection of cheeses and fresh fruits, then profiteroles, homemade ice cream and lastly various sorts of confection. At the end Draco felt bloated and so full he was afraid to move, lest he burst. The only one who still looked relatively comfortable was Ron who could apparently clear away massive amounts of food without trouble. He had even finished off Hermione’s helping of ice cream and most of her share of the confections.

Each course had been accompanied by various sorts of wine that went particularly well with each dish, and had consequently left them very tipsy. Hermione had at some point tried to skip the wine and settle for iced water, but the Bilbo and Kreacher had placed themselves on either side of her chair and looked at her sombrely, until she tasted the wine. They remained there for quite a while, just staring at her without blinking, until they were certain she would finish the glass of the wine they had provided. Nobody tried skipping the wine again. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that Kreacher was rubbing off on Bilbo in regards to creepiness – and not in a good way. Obviously.

At midnight they all went to stand in the garden to watch the fireworks – yet again supplied with champagne from the elves. From the corner of his eye Draco saw Harry scrunch up his face at the slightly sour-bitter taste.

“Disgusting,” he mumbled.

“Philistine,” Draco said quietly, to which Harry just made a snort.

 

The evening proceeded cheerfully. They engaged in a game of truth and dare for old times’ sake, with the minor change of not getting hexed in the arse if you refused a dare. Much to Pansy’s dismay most dares were refused on Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron’s part, except if they actually involved their respective partner.

“Merlin, you’ve all turned into old boring married couples,” she said exasperatedly when Harry refused to snog her.”

“I’ll snog you,” Blaise offered with a shrug.

“That’s very selfless of you, darling,” Pansy answered and patted his thigh. “I may take you up on it.”

“Right,” Ron suddenly said determinedly, stood up and resolutely walked out the living room door. They all looked at his retreating back questioningly.

“Was he offended by that?” Pansy asked incredulously.

“Dunno,” Harry answered, staring at the empty doorway through which Ron had just exited.

“Probably just needed to use the bathroom, Pansy love,” Blaise said. “Finally realised how disgustingly much he’d eaten and got sick. Give the poor man some privacy.”

They suddenly heard a loud yelp and the sound of glass smashing, and a few seconds later Ron was standing in the doorway, carrying a large platter, white as a sheet and with a slightly green tinge.

“I just caught the elves snogging in the larder,” he choked out.

The room was filled with momentary silence.

“Why were you in the larder?” Blaise asked curiously after a few moments of nobody knowing what to say.

“ _That’s_ your question?” Pansy asked and looked at him incredulously.

“I was getting snacks”.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked.

Ron looked at her, puzzled. “Yes,” he answered, gesturing at the dish of leftovers he was carrying.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “I meant about the elves. Are you sure they were kissing?”

Ron swallowed and shivered. “Positive.”

“Aaaawww, that’s so sweeeet.” Hermione clasped her hands over her heart and making puppy-dog-eyes.

“We should go have a look,” Blaise said, rubbing his hands together and grinning wickedly.

“Eww, no,” Harry exclaimed loudly.

“Yes, ew, Blaise, you perve,” Draco seconded. Blaise just grinned at him.

“They’re not there anymore. They scarpered when the heard me,” Ron said as he moved in to the room, still looking squeamish. “Ran straight for Kreacher’s room.”

There was another moment’s silence after which another _‘aaawww’_ was heard from Hermione. Draco, Pansy and Blaise doubled over laughing, and Ron continued to look slightly green and rattled, and Harry apparently wasn’t really sure what to think or do so settled on a sort of choking noise.

“I think it’s sweet,” Hermione stated, smiling widely. “House elf love.”

Ron snorted. “Don’t know how much was love and how much was the empty champagne bottle on the kitchen floor.”

Draco couldn’t help snickering though he did feel a tad disgusted by the unwelcome images that had flooded his mind, of two wrinkly elves making out. “Naughty little buggers.”

“Literally,” Ron said, now snickering as well.

Harry was frowning and worrying his lip. “Are we supposed to… I don’t know, protect their virtue or something?” he said, directed at Draco. “You know, have ‘the talk’?”

He was met by a roar of laughter and giggles from all directions and looked quite put out.

“ _Hey_ ,” he said loudly, “I’m just trying to be a responsible adult.” The attempt at responsibility was contradicted by the slight slur of his voice that the tipsiness had caused.

“ _I_ think it’s very responsible of you, Harry,” Hermione said solemnly as another fit of giggles erupted in the living room.

“It’s like a true love story,” Pansy exclaimed when she was nearly done laughing. “It’s like, you know, the mother and father fall in love, but there’s like total drama because the father’s son and the mother’s daughter hate each other, but then they eventually find out they love each other as well, and they all live happily ever after.” She grinned widely.

“Ugh, Pansy, that’s a horrible comparison,” Draco argued. “Besides, they’re both boys.”

“So are you and Harry,” Hermione added, grinning. “It completely fits.”

“This conversation is ridiculous,” Blaise stated, and Draco full heartedly agreed. “Right,” he continued and stood up, “if no one else is up for it, I’ll just go have a peek for myself.”

A chorus of _‘eeew’_ s, _‘yuck’_ s and the like from Harry, Ron, Pansy and Draco, plus an indignant _‘that’s a_ complete _invasion of their privacy’_ from Hermione erupted in the room as Blaise moved what Draco thought was supposed to be stealthily – but mostly looked like a very mediocre sneak thief –  through the living room and out the door. Seconds later Pansy stood up and followed him.

There was silence. Draco was torn between curiosity and disgust and, to look at him, so was Harry. Ron’s eyes were moving rapidly between the door and Hermione, very obviously longing to join Pansy and Blaise in their quest for house elf love. However, seeing as Hermione was glaring at him sternly, arms crossed over her chest and not blinking, he stayed put.

“Why do you want to see it anyway, Ron?” Draco asked. “You didn’t seem too thrilled at having seen them snog.”

“Yeah,” Harry seconded.

“Well, now I’m curious,” Ron explained.

“You’re staying put,” Hermione said firmly.

Right then, Pansy and Blaise entered again, and they all looked at them expectedly.

“Well there’s a sight I could have gone without,” Pansy said drily.

“Disgusting,” Blaise said with a shudder that was contradicted by his grin.

At that point Hermione couldn’t contain her indignation anymore and started a full on rant about her ridiculous SPEW and how spying on house elf love making was just as bad as spying on human love making (at which point Harry’s eyes met Draco’s and they both blushed), and that it was a violation of their right to privacy, blah blah blah…

“Merlin, somebody stop her,” Pansy groaned, covering his ears.

“It’s too late,” Ron said with a grim expression. “She’ll be on for hours now.”

As she prattled on, Draco lay down next to Harry who had shifted from sitting upright to lying sprawled on his back on the floor, his head resting on a sofa cushion, eyes closed and looking decidedly comfortable. Draco snuggled close to him, putting his head on the cushion as well and draping his leg across Harry’s. He started trailing patterns on Harry’s chest, and Harry turned his head, a small smile playing on his lips, and his eyes open and mild.

“What are you smiling at?” Draco asked.

“Just thought of the last time we were laying like this,” Harry answered and grinned.

Draco laughed. “Merlin, that caused a racket.”

“Sure did,” Harry said, smiling fondly at the memory.

They lay there for a few minutes, Harry looking up at the ceiling at nothing in particular and Draco looking at Harry.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Harry turned his head. “I love you too.”

Draco propped himself up on his elbow and leaned in over Harry, capturing his lips. The kiss was gentle and slow. Their legs were intertwined and Draco was running his hand up and down Harry’s side and occasionally over his hip and buttock. Inevitably, Draco soon felt Harry’s cock harden against his thigh and he somehow suddenly found himself lying on top of Harry, between his legs, paying no heed to their surroundings.

“Merlin, this is turning in to a literal fuck fest,” Pansy’s voice was suddenly heard.

Draco looked up over his shoulder and saw Ron lying on top of Hermione, his mouth firmly attached to hers and his hips working in a conspicuous way. She was flapping her hands and swatting at his shoulders in a pathetic attempt to get him off her, until, after a short while, she relented and grasped his arse in a very un-Hermione-like and very inappropriate way, which was clearly an effect of the house elves’ force-drinking. Blaise was leering at them in a very obvious and also very inappropriate way, but then again; Draco and Harry’s behaviour was hardly appropriate either.

Draco turned his head to look questioningly at Pansy who had uttered the words. She looked at Draco and shrugged. “I just asked him to please shut her up. _He_ chose to do it that way. I didn’t think she’d be quite so responsive, though.”

“Seriously, guys, get a room,” Harry said. He looked slightly queasy.

Pansy snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Yeah, well, one thing is doing it, quite another is seeing it. Again.” Then he turned to look at Draco. “Do you want to go to bed? It’s getting quite late.”

“Absolutely,” Draco grinned. He _was_ feeling a bit tired.

“ _Hey, Ron_ ,” Harry said loudly, and Ron looked up, looking dazed. “Draco and I are going to head to bed. Do you two want to stay here? There are plenty of rooms.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Might not be a good idea returning to the Burrow in this state.” He grinned and Hermione giggled.

“How about you two?” Harry asked Pansy and Blaise. “It’s a huge house. Plenty of room for everyone.”

“That would be great,” Blaise agreed immediately, finally having torn his eyes away from the spectacle. “We’ll just need one room, though. Right Pansy?” he said as he put his hand on her lower back.

She shrugged. “Yeah sure, why not.”

“Okay then,” Harry said and got up, urging the rest of them to do so as well. He turned and they all followed him out of the living room and to their respective bedrooms, bidding each other goodnight.

After having shown Pansy and Blaise and Ron and Hermione to their rooms, Harry went downstairs while Draco got ready for bed. Even though they expected Draco’s mother back by morning they decided to both go to bed in Harry’s room.

“I just wanted to let the elves know that they could leave the cleaning till tomorrow and told them there’d be guests for breakfast,” Harry informed when he returned.

“That was nice of you,” Draco said.

“Yeah, well, turned out they were already half done with the cleaning. Kreacher kept mumbling about how _‘the fake master is an ill raised brat who does not know how to behave around true wizards of the purest blood.’_ And that _‘Kreacher’s Miss Cissy, the most beautiful and noble witch and descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and her son, the honourable heir of Black and Malfoy, would rightfully decapitate both Kreacher and Bilbo and leave their bodies for the crows to feast on if the house is not clean by morning – And we can’t have that_ ,” Harry said with a grin, imitating Kreacher’s voice disturbingly accurately.

Draco laughed. “I’m quite certain my mother _would_ be appalled if the living room isn’t spotless tomorrow, but I’m also fairly certain she’s not the decapitating type so they should be safe either way.”

When Harry was ready for bed he lay down next to Draco who turned to his side. They lay looking at each other for a while without speaking. Then Harry put his arm around Draco and pulled him closer, leaning in for a kiss.

Kissing turned to caressing, which turned to groping, which turned to grinding, which, inevitably, turned to Harry prepping and lubing up Draco with his tongue before fucking him into the mattress, springs squeaking and headboard slamming into the wall.

*

“Hey Harry?” Draco said when they were lying next to each other afterwards, both panting and sweat-sticky.

“Yeah?”

“You know, this whole You Know Who business…?”

“I’ve heard of it, yeah.”

“If you die, I’m never going to forgive you for as long as I live.”

Harry looked to the side at his boyfriend. Draco was lying on his back, looking at the ceiling and gnawing his lower lip.

“Well, I guess I’d better make it then.”

Draco didn’t answer and Harry turned to lie on his side, facing Draco.

“Draco, where is this coming from?” he asked with a frown.

“Don’t know,” Draco answered. “Sometimes I just feel so happy and lucky it’s scary. I can’t help thinking there has to be a catch.”

Harry put his arm around Draco. “There’s no catch,” he said. “I’m not going to die. I love you, and there’s no way I’m letting you go. You really are quite extraordinary, you know.”

Draco smiled. “I am, aren’t I?”

Harry smiled and kissed the top of Draco’s head, using it as an excuse to sniff his hair.

Draco laughed. “Subtlety is not your strong suit, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry mumbled and breathed in once more, not bothering to conceal it this time.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, and he soon felt himself starting to drift off.

“Hey Harry?” Draco mumbled, sounding sleepy.

“Hey Draco?” Harry answered.

“Am I the girl in the relationship?”

Harry pulled back a little and propped himself up on his elbow. “The girl?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah, I mean… I’m usually the one bottoming, and… I just replayed my last question in my head and it completely sounded like something a girl would say. And you’re certainly not the girl.”

Harry snorted at the last comment. “No, I think I’ve been called a girl enough times to last me a lifetime these past few months.”

“Yeah,” Draco answered.

There was silence but Harry could tell Draco was thinking.

“I would like to remind you that you just gave me a very thorough fucking earlier this evening,” Harry pointed out. “Girls can’t do that, just so you know.”

“Yeah,” Draco said. “That was nice.” Harry could hear his smile in his voice.

“That it was,” he seconded. “Do you mind bottoming?” he asked after a few moments’ silence, suddenly worried that he had taken something for granted.

“Not one bit,” Draco answered and Harry was relieved.

“As for the worrying, I really do think you of all people have the right to act worried with all you’ve been through these past few years.”

“I guess so,” Draco said.

“Does there have to be a girl?” Harry asked. “Can’t we both just be boys?”

“Don’t know,” Draco said thoughtfully. “I guess so.”

Harry moved his hand down Draco’s torso. He trailed his fingers over his jutting hip bone and further down to his cock. “There’s certainly nothing girly about your anatomy.”

Draco laughed softly. “As nice as that is, Harry, I’m afraid I won’t be able to conjure the energy.”

“That’s okay,” Harry mumbled and snuggled closer to him, abandoning his attempt to stroke Draco into hardness once more, and instead nudging at Draco to turn around so Harry could spoon him. It was just as well, Harry thought. He wouldn’t be able to conjure up the energy either, lethargy due to the long day and considerable quantity of wine setting in.

“Stroke my hair, minion,” Draco mumbled. He sounded almost asleep.

“Certainly, your Majesty,” Harry replied fondly and started stroking. He stroked Draco’s hair until he heard the even breathing that signalled Draco had fallen asleep. Then he closed his eyes and quickly dosed off himself.

 

**1 st January (Wednesday – New Year’s Day)**

In the morning – well, it was almost twelve o’clock, so it probably couldn’t be called morning anymore, even on good will – Harry stumbled down the stairs, his head aching and stomach lurching. Draco was still sleeping soundly and Harry hadn’t had the heart to wake him. In the Kitchen he found Narcissa Malfoy sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and reading the Daily Prophet. On the table were six small vials of potion standing neatly in a row. As he entered, Mrs. Malfoy put down the newspaper and smiled at him.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter. I believe it would do you well to have one of these, Mr. Potter,” she said and gestured at the small vials.

“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. And thank you,” he managed and emptied the vial of what he assumed was hangover potion. He eyed the remaining five and gathered that none of the others were up yet.

“You’re the first one up, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Malfoy answered as if reading his mind. “Please, take a seat.”

Harry sat down.

“Bilbo, Kreacher” Mrs. Malfoy called, and the elves appeared, exiting Kreacher’s hide-away. “Please make Mr. Potter Breakfast.”

“Yes Mistress Cissa. Bilbo is making Mr. Potter his breakfast.” The elf bowed deeply and nearly tripped in his own ears. Then he moved to fetch a stool which he gently urged Kreacher to sit on. He prepared a cloth with cold water and put it on Kreacher’s forehead, taking hold of Kreacher’s hand and pressing it down on the cloth, keeping it in place. Kreacher gently patted Bilbo on the head before accepting the cup of tea that the younger elf was now offering him.

As Harry sat at the table, waiting for Bilbo to finish fussing over Kreacher so he could make Harry’s much needed breakfast, Mrs. Malfoy continued looking at him, and Harry had the feeling of her eyes boring into him.

“Tell me, Mr. Potter,” she said, eyes still scanning the paper. “Are you for some reason averse to silencing charms?”

Harry paled and felt the little hairs on his lower back rise.

“I…”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you put up one the next time you and my son… rearrange furniture,” she continued, still not looking up.

“Of course,” Harry answered. “Of course.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he imagined seeing the corner of her mouth twitch, and he got the distinct feeling that she was teasing him. Draco had said that was a good thing, though he would have preferred a different subject.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Malfoy said. She closed the paper and looked up smiling. “Be a dear and deliver the request to your friends as well.” Harry nodded, speechless. “I am very happy you are together, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Malfoy continued.

“Me too,” Harry answered with a small smile. His smile widened as he was presented with a full English breakfast.

He was joined by Draco not ten minutes later. Draco was, predictably, not confronted with their nocturnal ‘redecorations’, and just went to greet his mother with a peck on the cheek, receiving one in return.

“Did you have a nice evening, Mother?” he asked as he sat down next to Harry.

“I had a lovely evening, thank you, sweetheart,” she answered. “Did the six of you have a pleasant evening?”

“We did,” Draco answered as Bilbo arrived next to his seat with an enormous amount of breakfast. From the look of it Bilbo was apparently familiar with Draco’s occasional love of bacon. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

Not long after, they were joined by Ron and Hermione and Parkinson and Zabini who all greeted Mrs. Malfoy politely before downing their hangover potions with relief.

“He all right?” Zabini asked, gesturing to the corner where Kreacher was still sitting on the stool. He had, apparently, finished his tea and was now patting Bilbo’s head and stroking his ears. His face was contorted in a horrible grimace.

“Oh dear, do you think he’s in pain?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“I think he’s smiling,” Ron said, grinning.

They all took in the image of the two elves being visibly affectionate towards each other. It really was quite adorable.

“Bilbo, breakfast for our guests, please,” Mrs. Malfoy said then; politely but firmly, emphasising the word ‘guests’.

Bilbo momentarily stopped fussing over Kreacher, and the rest of the party were soon presented with each their plate of breakfast which they dug in with relish.

“Merlin, Weasley, how can you eat so much?” Parkinson asked Ron as he asked Bilbo for a second helping of scrambled eggs. “You ate a fuck-tonne of food yesterday. And snacks just before bed.”

“ _Pansy!_ Language,” Mrs. Malfoy scolded, and Parkinson blushed.

“Sorry, Mrs. Malfoy,” she said.

Mrs. Malfoy folded up the newspaper and put it down on the table. “Well, I will retreat and leave you all to it,” she said and smiled at them. “I shall be in the sowing room.” Draco stood up as she left, polite as he was, and Mrs. Malfoy pecked his cheek. Then, to Harry’s surprise, she went over to give him a peck on the cheek as well.

When she had left the room Zabini leaned in over the table and whispered loudly, directed at Harry and Draco, “I think she knows about you.”

Draco snickered. “She does. Harry asked her permission to date me right after he assaulted Shacklebolt and accused him of being a death eater.”

“I did no such thing,” Harry muttered, blushing.

“So that’s why dad and Bill had to come over so urgently the other day?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Draco answered. “It was very romantic. Told her he was in love with me and that he would very much like her permission to date me.” He smiled fondly at Harry.

“Aaww,” both Hermione and Parkinson cooed as Ron and Zabini both snorted.

“By the way,” Harry said, changing the subject, “I was kindly reminded this morning that we should all remember to put up silencing charms when we ‘rearrange furniture’ in the future.”

Ron choked on a piece of toast as Hermione blushed fiercely. Parkinson and Zabini both looked slack jawed.

“How the fuck do you forget something like that, Blaise?” Parkinson said accusingly.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Blaise said. “Sorry. And besides, you could have done it as well.”

Across from him, Hermione and Ron were having a similar discussion. Harry smiled and stretched then put his arm around Draco’s shoulders and pulled him close, so Draco’s head was resting on Harry’s shoulder. He sat listening to his and Draco’s friends bickering. He thought of the oddness of it, of how far they had come from the beginning of the school year. He thought of Draco’s worries which he had voiced last night and knew that eventually he was going to have to face the freak in a duel. And win. He then decided not to think of that until he absolutely had to. Right now, in the kitchen with the people he loved (and people he might not love but didn’t loathe), life was good.


End file.
